Fathoming You
by J. Valentine0
Summary: Fate is cruel to those who challenge the yolk of enslavement to her wheel. Sadly those who challenge it only realize such when the one they cherished above all others lay dead in their arms. What a waste. (A/Uish)
1. Chapter 1

"Fathoming You"

_Revisit of the previous story. It's going to be a long one. Enjoy!_

Prologue

_1996_

The quiet and sleepy Raccoon City was just a typical town, full of the usual suspects for petty crime and the occasional armed robbery. Lest we forget, the good people who slaved away, blue collar and all, who were the very blood and backbone of this place. The streets were clean, lawns mowed, and cheerful gestures given in passing. The only real excitement would be the Fourth of July celebration. The city was never one to be ridden with scandal or news beyond the mayor getting his hand caught in the church till to pay off the transvestite hooker he mistook to be a woman..

The city thrived, despite poor choices by its political leadership. The Umbrella Corporation kept the economy flowing to the point that other towns looked on in envy at the diamond that was Raccoon City. Chief Irons and his police force kept the peace. A special task force, S.T.A.R.S. was formed within the police department, which served to protect the city and keep trouble from spilling into it from the mountains surrounding the proverbial 'Pleasantville'. Not many knew of all the deeds those brave souls performed over the years, though they maintained their quiet vigil without desire for praise or thanks. Duty, bound these men and women.

Sadly, in a few years from this present time, the city would be wiped off the map. What a waste... May God have mercy on those responsible for their greed and selfishness as the memory of this city travels further and further into the back of the public's mind.

'_What remains when we die?'_

In Denver, a place that luckily would escape such a horrid fate, is where our story really begins. The infamous Dick Valentine was recently arrested on charges for theft-what a surprise… His only phone call to be made would be chosen with the intentions to not save his own hide. No, the chase was finally over for Dick. There wasn't a defense attorney within one-hundred miles that would represent him at this point, not without being selected by the state. Such thoughts swam through the fifty year old man's mind as he strode alongside the two guards appointed to escort him to the telephones. The orange jumpsuit stood out against his pale flesh and graying hair, hanging from the thief's body more like a bed sheet than a jumpsuit. The shackles, as he knew them, made their soft clanking sound with each step taken. It felt like an eternity before they reached the end of the inmate hallway, with all of the catcalling and yelling from various criminals. The taller guard unlocked the door before them, and Dick step through at last into the chill air-conditioning.

Approaching the phone, he awkwardly lifted it from the cradle and began to dial. Sighing deeply, he waited patiently for a pickup on the other end of the line. _'Please be there.' _He thought, crow's foot adorned eyes shutting weakly as each second passed and drew closer to no answer. Finally, someone picked up and a familiar voice chimed on the other end.

"Wesker."

A tired grin formed on the man's chapped lips, steel gray eyes opening. "It's been a long time, Albert… It's Dick."

Silence on the other end, and then a sigh. The sounds of swift movement are followed by an unmistakable slamming of a door. "You're supposed to call John if you needed work, Dick." The sentence was laced with ice and anger. Typical Wesker reaction to anything out of place.

"I… I know, Albert…" Dick said with a sigh, pausing. "I just didn't know who to call. I'm back in prison again."

More footsteps, and finally the sound of another door opening. Traffic filled Dick's ear, as he realized that the other man was outside. Probably was a bad idea to call a cop for help, but he was desperate. "Can't help you there, but I ca-.. How did you even get my cell number? "

"I'm Dick Valentine: I can get anything!" The older man chuckled a bit, though becoming somber rather quickly. "No, I didn't call for you to bail me out… It's my daughter that I'm concerned about. I can't get out of this life any more than a gangster can escape the mob… I want her to have a good life." His voice finally cracked, a rugged palm rising to smooth the hairs upon the top of his head. Nervous foible the old man would have until his last breath. "I thought I could do that for her, but I messed up. I finished this last job, but I'm not leaving prison this time. Guess when these idiots needed a fall man, I became their guy."

Another sigh, muffled sounds of entering a vehicle follow after. "And where exactly do I fall into this?"

"I need her out of Denver… I'm sure my indictment will mean the end of being with my daughter. Not without bars between us." A cough suddenly overtook the aging man.

"So your former employers might look to her for your tricks or to just take the fall for their messes in the future, just like you?" The voice on the other end asked, echoes of an engine starting easily heard.

"Yes… She has access to my savings, and everything else. Got enough that the girl could have a good start in a new town. I can't let her go down with me. Maybe she can find a job somewhere else and… Please, Albert… Just get her out of here." Rambling now, desperation was mounting.

"Considering what I owe you… I will." A pause on the other end. "Does she know?" Albert asked, throwing the shifter into reverse as he backed out of the parking lot.

It was time for Dick to pause, and with a sad sigh he replied. "No, she doesn't. Never want her to know. Don't think I could live with myself if she..." Too much to digest.

Clicking the turn signal for left, Wesker gazed out to the cloud formations beginning to dominate the sky. It would be raining soon. "I'm heading that way now. I'll need her phone number." Finally turning left, he sped on past the RPD, leaving a tubby and confused Chief Irons only able to scratch his head and munch on his twinkie in confusion as to why the captain of S.T.A.R.S. was taking off long before quittin' time.

"Eh.. It's the usual Denver code... and eh.. Five, five, five, four, seven, three, one. You lived only about four miles from us at that time. It's the same code as then."

"You don't remember it." Deadpan tones.

"Well… Don't use the house phone much. Jill usually does that." Dick said with a shrug out of habit.

Ah, Jill Valentine… She was just a teenager when Wesker had first met her. She probably was a lost soul by now, like every other young woman in this world who isn't pregnant or snorting cocaine before thirty. Albert was not entirely fond of this… but it was better to tie up loose ends for the sake of Umbrella and himself. Dick was quite the thief and had put himself in a unique position. A position where Wesker owed him more than the lion's share and then some. In Dick's terms, this was a settlement and it was a shame to see the old man fold to save his child from thugs and their promises of money that didn't exist. The blonde wouldn't complain, though pondered the idea of drugging himself with ether every time this girl possibly would want to talk about…anything.

"I'll be there in five hours. Arrangements will have to be made to handle moving her things in the coming weeks." Another stop made, red light.

A sigh of relief washed over Dick's end of the line, the old man smiling a bit. "You're a good man, Albert. I hope she can get a job at the Umbrella plant or something. Be a secretary, ya know?"

"Might know someone who can give her a job, though we will have to see." Albert replied bluntly, finally tugging his sunglasses off to view the dimming road.

"I'll never be able to repay you for this. You're a good soul." Dick uttered, finally hanging up the phone. '_Tonight, I'll finally be able to get some damn sleep..'_ He thought, as he and the guards made the long trek back to his cell.

Dialing the Valentine residence, an annoyed expression had painted itself over Wesker's features. _'Probably should have left my damn wallet in Raccoon…' _He thought, grumbling a bit while the phone rang on. No answer, just the machine. "Going to be a long night." The blonde muttered, closing the phone to focus on driving.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter One: 'How we met'**_

_There is a funny thing to be known about time and many neglect it. Time travels in its own patterns and choices, slipping away as the years drag on or fly by until an old man stands before a mirror, wondering what happened. This thought preoccupied a rather bored Albert Wesker as he sped through the dwindling twilight of a Colorado evening. Not in reference to himself, as he was still young enough to have a future. No, this was pertaining to Dick Valentine, who had entrusted him with the protection of his only daughter. Though five years separated Wesker from the day that he originally met the woman, his thoughts traveled back to that December evening in Denver._

_1991_

Umbrella was as much of a cash cow as ever, and it was yet another evening at the Stonebrook Manor for dinner and dancing for possible investors and other wealthy guests. Tuxedos, of course, for such a lavish occasion in celebration of the holidays amid a crowd of snobbish and idiotic individuals… Well that's how Albert viewed them from behind a mask of emotionless expression. No sunglasses to be found, his steel gray eyes were exposed for many women to practically drool over as they passed him on the staircase. The only reason he had bothered to attend were two reasons: William's promotion and Spencer dispersing idle threats throughout the higher rings of Umbrella for attendance. In other words, bring a gun and expect to use it. '_Joy…' _the sarcastic thought rang through his mind, accompanied by another long drink of champagne.

"Don't look so squeamish to be here, Wesker. At least the band can carry on a swing tune." The voice of William Birkin caught to the blonde's ears as the gangly looking scientist approached in tux with his wife Annette in tow. Annette was not a terrible looking woman, for someone who slept at the office under a pile of papers with her husband crashed on the floor, and the violet evening gown did finally show her feminine curves. She was smiling, arm linked with William's, blue eyes peering over Albert with concern. "Where's Cassandra?" She asked.

The topic was dismissed rather quickly with a change of subject. Glass set on the railing of the stairs, Wesker folded his arms and gave the pair a once over look before offering a quick smile, and it was dropped just as swiftly as it formed. "Annette, he doesn't look like Dr. Frankenstein today, what did you do to him?"

The blonde woman laughed, though the questions of the woman that William's friend was to bring still lingered, despite Wesker's efforts to dispel such discussion. "I had to blow up the lab to get him out of it. Still, where's Cassandra?" A smirk formed on the woman's lips as she uttered the question.

"Dumped me, I think she went back to Paris to remain euro trash." He uttered softly, plucking another filled glass from a passing waitress. Polishing it off, his stare returned out to the crowd. "Though, if she was looking for a wealthy husband, she could have found one here. The ratio of 'stupid trophy wife' hunters is higher than normal." Words lathered in ice pinged on the air as the blonde man brushed off any other inquiries. Possibly the ones about how he was taking being single once more.

'_Cassandra was a warm body. A life support system for a rack and genitals.' _He internally reminded himself for the hundredth time.

William finally laughed, resting a palm on his long time friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry… I guess you just don't have the smooth moves like I do, Wesker. The ladies love me." Annette rolled her eyes, unlinking her arm from her husband's. "I need to use the ladies room, gentleman and husband-who-will-be-sleeping-on-the-couch."

"Ouch." Wesker grinned as she departed.

William, not being one to take that from his wife, made a gesture of a phone with his hand against the side of his face. "Call me! I want to spend the rest of my life with you!" Some heads turned at that and Annette scooted for the women's restroom so much faster; purse shielding her red face and swearing under her breath. "I love her so much."

"You'd better; I don't think another woman exists who can put up with you." The blonde retorted. "At least you and I will have one thing in common this evening, Will."

Head swiveling, the shorter man blinked. "Oh yeah, and that would be?"

"Not going to be getting laid."

A sigh given, William stuffed his hands into his pockets. "We are in the wrong business for that. We should have been spies."

"Indeed…" Albert's gaze set on Ozwell Spencer from across the vast hall with some young woman in tow. Poor girl, she'd probably end up on his staff if she kept hanging all over the old man like they were love birds. Subtle gesture given to William, a snort escaped.

"Oh my…" Will lifted a hand to rummage over the scruff that still clung to his youthful face.

"Oh yes, there he is. Probably should go say 'Hello' before I fall over drunk in the back alley out of boredom."

"Classy, Albert." Birkin snickered, and shrugged. "You can go, he and I aren't talking."

"Honeymoon over already? You haven't even been promoted yet." The blonde asked.

"I know… He hasn't been too fond of my current research in the past couple weeks. Sleep on the couch more because of him than Annette."

"They're conspiring, William. Drive you mad and run away together after you step out in front of a train." It was more truth than joke in a sense, Spencer was working William for far too many hours and it was showing. Despite that Ozwell E. Spencer was the president of Umbrella, and one of its founders, Wesker had little respect for the man.

"Planning on it next week," William said, smiling as Annette rejoined the pair. A kiss given to his wife, the scientist smiled. A gentle pat on his shoulder signaled Wesker's departure of the duo. "We'll see you after the ceremony."

Approaching Ozwell Spencer, Wesker offered up a handshake to the aging man. "Good to see you, Spencer." Albert said, giving a nod to the lady who still seemed to be trying to wrap herself around Spencer tight enough a ring popped on her finger. Red hair, too much eye shadow. _'Yikes.'_

"Albert… Good to see you showed up. I trust that Hunk and his men informed you of my concerns for this evening." Spencer's voice seemed to have aged more than his body as the sound hit the air. The worst part about Ozwell Spencer was that he took self-preservation to a level of lunacy that Albert had only seen in horror flicks and confessions from battered wives who put butcher knives in their husband's hearts. The only difference was that Spencer maintained a façade of complete calm. Unnerving, really.

"Yes, we spoke earlier. I assure you tha-"Cut off.

"Dick? Dick Valentine? Hey! Get over here!" Spencer suddenly pried himself free of the little redhead to stride over to an equally aging man.

'_An embrace? Huh…'_ A young girl, eighteen or so followed in suit behind the unknown gentleman. She wore a black cocktail dress, black pumps, no makeup, and her soft caramel hair was tied back with a single silken ribbon. This girl did not appear in the same sect as the rest of the women at the party… she seemed normal.

"Dick, this is Albert Wesker, one of my top men in the information sector." Spencer said while walking back to where the blonde stood.

The older man nodded and smiled, shaking Wesker's hand. "Glad to meet you. Ozwell told me very little about you but I'm sure we'll get a chance to speak later." A tug on his coat, and he seemed to remember his daughter. "And my daughter, Jill, who is as happy as I am to be here." He seemed as though that statement could be true. She didn't. An expression of boredom was smeared over her pale features until she was introduced.

Stepping forward, she gently shook Albert's hand. "Nice to meet you." Icy blue eyes met his gray and she quickly retracted the palm. Shy. Her pulse had been drumming against his fingertips at her wrist. Shy and nervous. Beautiful…

'_A little young. My God are you insane?!'_

"And you as well, Miss Valentine." The blonde replied, face as calm as an undisturbed pond. Her anxious eyes adverted immediately after the velvety tones escaped his lips. He would leave her unscathed for now. The night was still young…"So, you are from the area, Mister Valentine?"

"Oh please, call me 'Dick'. Yes, Jill and I have lived in the area since her mother passed away. Pretty decent area around Parker Avenue, with the schools and the church, I can't complain too much."

"I think you already did, Dad. Kids and evangelists drive you crazy…" A clever little comment made by the young girl, and a smile to match such wit wound up on her face. His trance was over.

"Don't make your old man look much older, Jill…" The grey haired Valentine said, taking a sip from his bourbon. "Damn kids and their skateboards…"

Ozwell snorted a bit. "I'd turn a garden hose on kids if they came near my porch. 'Course my driveway is two miles long. Hard to reach."

Wesker wouldn't put it past him…and the thought of him doing such should have been on company's Christmas card for that year. A soft voice snapped the blonde back to reality, and he blinked. "What?"

Jill smiled a bit, shy as ever. "I asked you if you wanted to dance." Red crept over her face again, as it seemed she had found something that kept her attention in a sea of falsehoods and money. The music had shifted, mellow sounds of piano and violin joining to fill the air. All around them, couples were traversing towards the hardwood floor.

"Yes, take the girl for a dance." Ozwell offered, giving Wesker a clap on the back. "I need to discuss a few things with Dick." That was that, apparently, his choice made for him.

Not that he hadn't thought about it… however…

'_I fucking hate dancing.'_ He inwardly seethed, polishing off a lute of champagne that he snagged from a server wandering past the four. Sigh contained, he offered an arm to the young woman. "Of course." Wesker allowed a faint smile to slip over his lips as she wound a palm against his bicep and followed beside him to the dance floor. Once there, her palm slipped into his as the other found its way near the nape of his neck. The blonde haired man's own free palm found its way to the small of her back and began to lead.

Jill followed in suit perfectly, accompanying his motions in the dance as they looped around the dance floor. Eye contact was minimal, though she was smiling the entire time. "Glad you can dance, I rarely enjoy it whenever I attend one. School dances remind me of robots trying to follow a tune."

Memories of such occasions caused Wesker to laugh and grin. "Ah yes, the tragedy that we all have to go through after wandering across a gym to shyly ask a girl who is a foot taller if she'd like to dance."

"I never go anymore," she replied, blue irises daring to gaze up to his as she spoke. "Boys tend to not ask me to dance, and the punch always stinks of rum."

"It gets better once you escape to being an actual adult. Graduating soon?" Shifting their direction to avoid crashing into another pair, he moved with ease.

"Already did. I finished early so that I can have some time before starting college." Jill said, her eyes peering to the couple that they nearly bumped into. It was William and Annette.

"I love you, Annette! You're as pretty as the day is wide." The slender man said to his wife, who could only sigh at her husband who had apparently hit the bottle since Wesker had left the pair. Despite his drinking, the man could still carry himself to a tune. Maybe he really did have some 'moves'.

Valentine's brows popped, Wesker quickly swept her away as the song carried on. The sounds of "Is that Albert?" "William, shut up!" didn't seem to invoke the desire to return and converse with the Birkins.

"Do you know them?" Jill asked with a bewildered look on her face at William suddenly going into a bit of 'disco fever'. Annette abandoned him from the floor with a huff.

Without missing a beat the blonde dipped her with ease, gray eyes keeping her locked in a mental vault. Her grasp was tight, surprise ripped across her expression. "Who?" He asked, one brow lofting higher than the other.

"Um…" Thoughts realigning, pulse now racing. Golden hind caught, legs unable to navigate with an arrow caught between muscle. "I…"

Pearl teeth exposed briefly from behind his lips, Albert raised her back up with ease. Head tipping, he viewed William pulling a John Travolta off the dance floor. "Oh… No, I don't know them. He looks like a lunatic."

"At least they're having fun…" She offered gently, hands looping back to the nape of his neck.

"You're not? I can dip you again, Miss Valentine."

Her face burned red. "I'm good."

The song ending, the crowd gave the band applause, and the two departed from the floor. Dick and Ozwell had vanished, thus leaving the blonde to keep the girl company until the two old men manifested themselves. Silence hugged the air in a vice's grip until she finally broke the quiet.

"So, you work for Mister Spencer also?" Jill asked, seeming rather interested in making some idle conversation.

"Yes, though I've never met your father before today, Miss Valentine."

"Oh, my father does odd jobs for Umbrella and around Denver. I'm surprised that you don't know him; he gathers information quite a bit. Always working all night, I rarely see him."

Hrm… A spy or thief, with a daughter who was possibly tracking into the business… Her story of going to college was possibly a lie, though Wesker wouldn't fault her for it. Umbrella was built on lies and blood money. "I may have met him in passing, but my job requires too much travel to get to know everyone who works in Denver."

"I see…" She uttered, head tilting to view Ozwell and Dick returning. Nervous fingers tugged at the strands of her brunette locks.

"You kids have fun?" Spencer asked, taking a swig from his glass upon approach. The redheaded girl reappeared and latched herself back to Spencer's hip, giving the old man a peck on the cheek. Jill quirked a brow, quizzled by such a pair.

"Loads." Albert nodded to the older Valentine, arms folding over his chest. "Your daughter dances very well, Dick."

"She does. I can't keep up with her since I was born with two left feet." Draping an arm over Jill, Dick smiled at his daughter.

The night drug on, more music and requests to dance from Miss Valentine kept Wesker from being completely bored. Finally, the promotion ceremony and awards were given out. The usual ego strokes to make resumes look less than worthless… William made a complete ass of himself, halfway through his speech beginning to rant about his undying love for Annette and his work for Umbrella. Mrs. Birkin spent most of the speech with her head between her palms.

As usual with these occasions, the board within the company, along with Dick, slipped upstairs for a brief little meeting. Discussions of competitors and how to handle them filled the den, as this was the true nature behind the evening. Spencer extended his praise to Dick for retrieving important documents that would give Umbrella an edge, as though they couldn't have done it without the lone thief. Either way, new plans were spoken of, and a toast was given to their success. With so much money being dumped into Raccoon City, it would only be a matter of time before Wesker would have to go there. His plans would have to wait, it seemed, as everyone sifted out. Spencer had too many guests to keep happy to speak of nitty gritty. Nothing new.

Returning from the den, the most powerful men in the world dispersed back into the crowds. Congratulations were extended to William by many as they passed, though Wesker gave him a look as he walked by.

"Oh don't be like that. Annette is already spitting fire and wanting to kick me out of the house, Albert."

Any reply would have to wait as Jill quickly made her way over to Wesker and Dick. "Ready to go, Jilly?" Dick asked, finally finishing his drink.

"Almost… There's one last song that they're playing. Can we stay for it, Dad?" She glanced over to Wesker, the same shy smile still on her lips.

"Oh boy….Jill, I think Mister Wesker has to get going as well. Hate for him to be stuck in traffic, eh?"

Saved by the father, though her crushed expression would not do. "Well, how about another time, Jill? Save the last dance for you." An award winning smile, and Albert leaned in to press a kiss on her cheek. He knew he had a few too many at this point. Looser than usual with his words. It was better to be diplomatic…and he couldn't deny that seeing her so infatuated by him was an ego stroke. At least that's what several lutes of champagne and bourbon on the rocks informed him of.

"Alright. I'll hold you to that." She replied, though her face was stinging red again, waving goodbye as the father and daughter departed into the crowd to hopefully make it home within an hour.

Single wave returned, a smirk clung to the man's lips until Annette and William showed themselves to bid goodbye for the night. Annette had that woman look, as she seemed to have taken notice of some things. "I didn't know you could dance, Wesker."

A shrug given, the blonde began to undo his tie as they slipped out. "I didn't realize William could dance while smelling like a brewery."

"Wha?"

"Nothing, Will." Albert said quickly, allowing the undone tie to hang from his neck as he opened the door for the pair.

"She looked very young." Annette said, fishing in her purse for keys no doubt.

"It was just a dance or two, Annette. Girl was as bored as I was." Wesker replied, seeming a bit annoyed at such comments. Mrs. Birkin knew how to make him feel like he was under a microscope at times. Following the pair to their car, he was graciously bestowed with more of Annette's concern.

"Very pretty girl, she did seem to have a good time."

"Glad you can see my actions as charitable to say the least." Smile formed on his face, it didn't falter when she frowned.

"She looked very young." Annette repeated, opening the car door.

"Yes mother, I will avoid prison and not sleep with her until her birthday next week." Wesker replied, shutting the door for her after she had climbed in. Sarcastic ass.

The statement only caused William to cackle. "She's going to have you on the couch too if you don't shut up."

A sigh escaping her lips, the blonde woman lit up a cigarette and rolled down the car window. "We love you, Albert. We worry about you being up here all alone." She said, stare meeting his in a moment of silence between the two. His smile dropped, sobriety finding him at lightning speed. She may as well have reached into his chest and drug out the blonde's heart. "Come visit us in Raccoon City when you get the chance." The subject was dropped, though her and William's worry was made known. She always knew how to say so much more in a few words than most could put into entire books.

Waving them off, the blonde stood there in the chill of the night for a while. Lighting a cigarette of his own, he would just have to wait for the crowds to leave. Waiting for easier traffic was justification for allowing his thoughts to pass as snow began to drift down from the heavens_. 'I worry about me too, Annette.'_ Such a painful realization, though none would know he even thought it as the cold mask overtook and he made his way through the parking lot to his own car. Along the drive home, his thoughts wandered back to the young woman. It was almost…a tolerable evening.

Pouty lips...

Frosty blue eyes…

Cigarette was thrown out the window at that point. His thoughts roamed elsewhere.

_"Why does my mind wander so badly while driving?" He asked himself aloud, shaking his head. Twisting the dial, the radio flared on with some terrible underground hip hop song about white women and fat asses. The dial was immediate twisted backwards and the radio cut off. "That's why..." the blonde grumbled, steel colored eyes rubbed roughly as exhaustion crept over him with each passing hour. So long ago, he doubted she would remember him at all. Rain pelted relentlessly against the windshield as Wesker sped into Denver's city limits. Headlights switched to dim as the two-lane became a four; he tried once more to reach the Valentine residence. Perhaps Dick had forgotten the number, though he was betting on something far worse…_

_Reaching over to the glove compartment, he withdrew the Samurai Edge that lay hidden under a user's manual and a bottle of Polo: Loaded, safety on, ready to go. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to use it this evening._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Two: 'Leaving'**_

_Over the few years which followed that night, Dick Valentine had become a wonderful asset to Wesker's work within Umbrella. Despite Albert's original ideas about Spencer being an utter moron to send an old man to do the work of an army against other pharmaceutical companies, it was how Dick accomplished his tasks that left the twenty some year old man applauding. Acting as an investor for corporation buildings, he had one of those faces that most forget in passing and security tended to never be harsh on an old timer who was 'just looking for the board room with so and so'. Breaking in again was easy; Dick had relieved at least six people of their ID cards along the way and faking security tapes was all that Spencer ever had to provide. Those who worked with bioweapons tended to follow in Umbrella's steps for placing their labs within hospitals, thus it only took a stomach virus to get Dick inside. The rest is history…except for one event._

_Spencer had an old rivalry with a man who had nearly bankrupt Umbrella on more than one occasion on Wall Street with rumors of 'misuse of viral research' for selling to military organizations. Though this was completely true, the man had no idea of what exactly had been cooking in the Umbrella oven. Spencer wanted him to know before he died. Thus, Dick brought the man in to the Spencer Estate, alive and quite aware. What happened afterwards, left the old man shaking and taking half of what Spencer promised…without so much as a question where the other half of the payment would be coming from or if he'd even get it. _

"_In the future… Can I just get easier jobs, Spence?" Dick asked in a cracking, hushed tone. Leathered fingers brushing back his gray hair, the man looked more than frazzled._

_Wesker watched from the shadows, arms folded and sunglasses masking his flawless face. _

_William looked a little less solid, fingers worrying over the manila folder in his hands, straggles of blonde hovering over his freckled face._

_Ozwell was too busy to gaze at any of them, cigar smoke lifting from his crouched form over the corpse that lay on the lab's floor. After a moment, he finally spoke. "Put him in the pen with the others. Show Dick where to put them if I need this done again." Ignoring Dick's request, the aging business man stood and strode out without another word. _

_Wesker stepped forward, grabbing the dead body's nearest arm and proceeding to drag the body off. Dick was on his heels. _

"_Spence is out of his fucking mind. We gotta liquify this thing… or bury it at least." The aging Valentine hissed. "Evidence will put us all in the pokey!"_

_No reply from Albert, he continued to drag the body. Narrow hallway then a steel door. Ring of keys, one found and the door was opened. "Help me." He uttered, and the two heaved the corpse inside. Swiftly, Wesker slammed the door shut. Locked, he stepped away._

_To see what the T-virus could do… Dick would have to face that alone. He would have to see the corpse shift, then move…then rise and walk. _

_Valentine saw…and he remained at the small three inch thick window to peer into the room for several minutes._

_Returning to the lab, he was worrying his hands. "…There are fifteen in there." He whispered._

_Will looked up to him from his files._

_Wesker did not._

"_Four little girls…"_

"_It's that man's entire family in there." William whispered in a weak tone._

_Dick sobbed._

_No such event ever happened again, though Wesker wondered what else Mr. Valentine had seen at the hands of Spencer in that hallway… Dick was no saint, but Ozwell was out of his fucking mind for exposing such vile truth to a man he shared a thirty year friendship with. It seemed that the elder of the two remaining Valentines knew just what kind of hell the staff of Umbrella was in, whether they had paid for the ride across Styx to sell their souls away or not. It was genius, really, how Spencer kept all of them silent and plastering fake smiles for the cameras: 'Do it or die. Oh, and your family tree will be uprooted and burned as well.'_

_Either way, Dick had done a bit of work for Wesker after that. The two never spoke of the event at the Estate. The old timer provided Albert with valuable information from various parts of Umbrella. These things could have cost Valentine everything, including his only child. However, the realization that someone within could stop Spencer, gave hope for an end to what could seriously go wrong. Risk was the rolling of the dice every day that he stepped into an Umbrella facility. The old man had practically worked for free and a silent promise would be kept if possible for the information. At least that is how Dick probably perceived it, as the truth was not so flashy and heroic._

_'Money is the root of all evil', as some broke idiot once said. Albert's intentions were to obtain a great deal of it after toppling Spencer from his throne. It wasn't as though the man lacked compassion for others, but spending years working with the experiments of Umbrella had left him a tad jaded and certainly with a stress disorder. The designated therapist for the researchers said that it would be easier to think of the subjects as things or animals, rather than people. It was less traumatic to work with a rat than a person in biological research. Humans tended to do things such as speak and scream. Words tended to affect the brain and haunt the scientist. Hauntings tended to lead scientists to end their lives at that estate. Always a shot to the head, never wanting to come back as the very things they studied for months. He wanted out, badly. Even though he no longer was a scientist, it didn't mean that he was free of dealing with the T-Virus and its victims. Umbrella as a whole would have to fall._

_Much like Dick, Albert was just another 'gangster wanting out of the mob' and he wouldn't escape it without having to bring down Spencer and the board. Afterwards, he would live as a hermit on an island, drunk out of his mind until he drowned in his own pool during such a stupor. Maybe bail Dick out, and drag the Birkin tribe along while the rest of the world gasped as compromising photos of Umbrella and those she was sleeping with were chewed relentlessly in a media feeding frenzy. It would be worth setting his VCR to record to show the grandkids one day if he didn't manage to kill himself before that ever happened._

During the trip, Wesker had made a call back to Irons, explaining a revision of the situation in order to obtain Dick's address from the Denver PD. Within half an hour, he had the address. It would make their job easier, as there would be nobody at the house to hide evidence and a key witness would be in the custody of a police officer in a sleepy town within driving distance. Less for the local cops to deal with as taxpayers wouldn't be footing the bill for witness protection, and that made them all the more happier to give him the information. Whatever Dick had landed himself in, it had drawn him into the circle of a Colombian drug cartel from what the captain at the local station said to Irons, who Wesker eventually had to hang up on. Not a good situation and keeping people quiet would be the first order of business. If Jill wasn't reached, she could easily be murdered or sold into human slavery for some ruler of a third world litter box. Wesker was no fool to the nature of some of these low lives. They were saints compared to Umbrella, but an annoyance for him to deal with.

Arriving on Parker Avenue, he drove past the Valentine residence, peering at the darkened two story home. No signs of life, and an older model motorcycle remained in the driveway along with two black cars parked on the street. A lone man, dressed in a nice suit, stood at the door smoking what appeared to be a cigar. Could have been a boyfriend's ride, if the license plate on the back didn't read "Jilly". The cars looked exactly alike, and the man at the door didn't seem to have anything in common with a twenty-three year old woman outside of a nightclub. That was enough for Wesker to make the decision. Parking approximately three houses down, he killed the engine and the lights. "Joy…" Stepping out, the Samurai Edge was already stowed on his hip. If he knew anything about Dick Valentine, the house would have more guns and knives than a vendor's shop, and that was what he was counting on. _'Let's see how well you read people, Albert…'_

Approaching the house, he strode with confidence and adrenaline was beginning to pump through the blonde's veins with each step. The sound of his own heartbeat was thumping the inside of his skull, but he retained an aura of complete calm. The man at the door, upon closer inspection, was clearly from a South American country based on facial structure and skin tone. _'Shit shit shit..' _A palm rose by the man, and he blew out a lung full of smoke as Wesker neared him. "Hey, nobody comes in here, hombre. Get the fuck out of my sight." The portly man barked, gesturing back to the direction he had arrived from. Coat opened, he revealed what looked like an Uzi in the darkness of the night.

'_Charming…'_

That did it. Two steps taken, one stair skipped and Wesker delivered a devastating punch to the man's face. The sick sound of crunching bone alerted to a broken nose, the dead blow to the bride of said appendage was enough pain to knock the mouthy 'hombre' out of commission and to the ground. A swift kick delivered to the side of the head and it was lights out. Hopefully, that sinus cavity would fill with blood and he'd drown in it.

_'Not likely, but miracles happen.' _Gun relieved, ammunition clip popped out and thrown somewhere in the yard, Albert stepped over the body of the unconscious man. Pulling his pistol from its resting place, the safety was flicked off. Back coming to rest against the solid wood frame of the door, he allowed his knuckles to deliver a quick and loud knock to the door. Footsteps from the inside of the house and muffled voices caused him to retract his hand and ready the gun. Wesker would remain out of immediate line of sight, easier to put a bullet in the next moron who dared to poke his head out. He was outnumbered and definitely would use caution. "Open up! Police!" The blonde barked.

Foresight paid off. Apparently they'd expected him to stand in front of the door as a hole the size of a melon exploded in a shower of splintered wood and machine gun fire. _'Jesus Christ!' _Whether a prayer or just a means to express internal surprise, the two words rang louder than the deafening spray of bullets. He remained still and silent until that moment came to retaliate. Heart pounding, he dared not to be the one to make a first move. _'Come on fucker…'_ Flashlight popped on, someone stepped out. It was male, liked diamond studs, and didn't realize it was already dead.

_**BLAM!**_

An excellent shot, though far too easy. This would be child's play, in all reality, for the captain. These boys were barely men, let alone capable of fighting off someone who dealt with hostage takers and other types of terrorists on a regular basis. Not being one to bang his own drum, Wesker did pride himself on skill in these sorts of situations.

The bullet had entered through the right side of the man's skull and popped out the left. He didn't even get a look at his attacker before death took him. Little mess, though Wesker now owed Dick a new deck after the blood would be finished saturating it. _'No time for jokes, there are at least two more with a maximum of eight considering car space if they didn't stuff people in the trunks over trying to capture one woman.' _

The next idiot stepped out and he shared the same fate in much the same fashion aside from brain matter and blood splattering on his comrade that exited with him. That 'comrade' ducked though blinded by the mess. He managed to shoot like a wild man in almost every direction, and ended up with four bullets in him. Down to seven bullets, and that might be unfavorable. _'Still need to get inside.'_

Broken glass and a tornado's deed done to the living room greeted Albert as he stepped inside. Cigar smoke and the horrid aroma of cheap cologne wafted into his nostrils. In his mind, it was enough of a crime without wrecking the house. The kitchen light was on, though at the far edge of the house with only a crack of light to show. He could hear the voices of whoever was still within the home. Not a string of feminine tone, and that only made the situation direr until he could eavesdrop.

Finding his way along the hallway connecting the living room to what appeared to be the downstairs bedroom and bathroom; he slipped quickly into the master bedroom unnoticed. Moving to the wall nearest in the kitchen's direction, Wesker began to listen in on what was being said. Thank God that Dick was cheap and the walls were somewhat paper thin. A few pictures of a girl, who only could have been Jill as she grew up, dotted the wall. Cute kid.

"_We'll negotiate her price for seven now. She's a beauty and I can guarantee that nobody alive will be looking for her." _A pause and muffled barks of 'Go check on them' echoed before the conversation picked up again. _'Don't count your luck before the cards are shown, kid.'_ Counting footsteps, there were four others besides the one speaking on a cellular telephone. Sweat pouring down his brow; Wesker didn't even realize how hard his body was working. Flicking on his penlight, the captain scoured the walls of the room for signs of a gun safe. There it was next to the closet on the far wall, filled with four hunting rifles and a shotgun. The shotgun was removed, checked and found to be loaded. Perfect.

"_Nah, she's not hurt and I think her papa may have tipped off the cops. We'll get him too, old timer is trapped like a rat and our inside guys can finish the job. By tomorrow, you'll have yourself a slice of white cake, Amigo. Alright, bye." _

Well, that certainly painted a picture, though the information that Jill was still alive was worth listening to that garbage. Hustled footsteps and rantings in Spanish meant that time was running out. _'Time to finish this.' _Walking out of the master bedroom, he spotted one of them right off the bat and one shotgun blast put the Hispanic man on the ground motionless. Red spilled out from under him to stain the carpets. Ducking down, back against the wall, he waited for any allies of the fallen to show themselves. Two of them did at once, and both were swiftly peppered by a shotgun blast. Apparently Dick was cheaper than Albert thought, as the shotgun had no extra ammunition than the two original shells._ 'Well, shit.'_ Rising to his feet, Wesker stepped out from the darkness as the last one approached. The felon seemed to have thought he had time to load that pesky berretta of his before facing this 'cop'.

"I'll take that." Wesker said, dislodging the handgun from the man's grasp, leaving the man empty-handed and quite surprised. For his next trick, the cop would drop this thug like a stack of bricks: pistol whipping him square across the left side of his face. The man screeched in agony, but did not rise after crumbling on the floor. "Good dog, stay down." Ammo taken, single bullet discharged from the firing chamber, the blonde simply let the junk pistol drop to the floor. Something was screamed in Spanish, though disregarded at this point. Fool knew he had been beaten without a single shot fired by him or Wesker. _'Just awful you got the shit smacked out of you by a pig, isn't it?'_ The blonde inwardly thought, weapon trained ahead as he approached the kitchen's opening from the dining room. He couldn't afford to gloat at the pitiful criminal, as Jill was yet to be discovered. _'You would have thought she'd have made a sound by now.'_

Peering in, there was not a soul to be found in the kitchen. Completely empty, and it looked like the men had caught Jill just as she was about to pour herself a bowl of cereal. The crunched trail somewhat indicated a man's sized shoes or boots, which headed towards the door closed before him in a crumb trail. _'No fable has ever had a nice ending for the crumb trail.'_ Glancing to the jug of milk on the counter, he could easily see condensation still formed on it. They hadn't been here long; therefore they may still not have her. Slipping around the mess of flakes on the floor, he shoved the door into the next room open, and there was nobody present yet again.

Penlight flicked on, trained in his free hand, the captain flicked the rays of light about the room. Not a damn soul to be seen. Only couches and an old television inhabited the den. The door leading to the stairwell was shut tight too, and as Wesker approached, sounds could easily be heard. A struggle, to say the least on the stairs.

"Quit squirming you little bitch! I swear to God I will cut your fucking throat if you try to bite me again!"

The blonde haired man pondered how exactly to handle this when the doorknob turned, and the unmistakable sounds of a panicking woman grunting and growling as she tried to break free. Stepping back, penlight clicked off, Albert stood within the doorway leading into the kitchen. Hitting the light switch, darkness overtook the den. The element of surprise was now his and hopefully Jill could manage to stand still long enough for him to get a clean shot off. What little light was given off from the street began to hang upon the stairwell door. The seconds drug by for hours in the captain's mind as the final gunman struggled to hang onto the girl and open the door. _'Fucks sake, if you can't handle a struggling twenty-three year old woman and you're kidnapping her for God knows what…Might want to rethink your occupation. Should have consulted Dick for what is easy to steal.' _If it wasn't for the fact that the idiot had her within his grasp, Wesker would have already ended it. _'So close, don't fuck it up now. Wait for it…'_

The door uneasily swung open, creaking and slamming against the wall as two shadows appeared from the stairwell. "See bitch? I can get you downstairs." Their backs were to Wesker up until this point. Jill's attacker delivered a smack to the side of her head, causing the woman to cry out. "Fucking going to make you pay for biting me when we get to the car. ENRIQUE! Start the fucking car, man!"

"LET ME GO!" Jill screamed, though received a quick smack to the head again for it, as well as a threatening gesture by the man with what seemed to be a k-bar.

"Shut up! Nobody can hear you; nobody is going to come save your ass. Your old man paid some cop to try to save you and he's dead too." The Colombian laughed, kicking the door shut. "Soon bitch, you're going to be my ticket to the good life." Cackling, he turned and began to move forward with her in front. "But just in case that co-"The man stopped short, catching the outline of a figure no more than ten feet away. The business end of a pistol pointing at him was an eye catcher too. If any had ever witnessed Death manifesting on this earth, Albert Wesker prepared to take a life was as close as any would get.

There was nothing to be said at this point, no exchanging of words on Wesker's behalf; still, silent and the crosshairs fixed between the man's eyes. Steel grey eyes softened briefly as he gazed at Jill, seeing a bruised eye and a split lower lip. Tears had stained her cheeks, and were beginning to pour down again as it seemed she registered someone had come to her aid. The last person in the world she ever thought… Albert's stare switched to the degenerate who still held her tight, a knife at her throat. He was sweating. Good.

"Hey man, let's talk about this, I'll cut the profit for her fifty –fifty. She's worth seven thousand."

The decision had already been made before the man began to speak, but Wesker had to line up his target again. Darkness made his sight picture a tad different than during the daytime and the gun only had one sight on it. Once lined up, there was no hesitation, he fired at the man. Between the eyes, the bullet smashed into the man's skull. Within said area, a being cannot return fire or cut a throat when shot. It's what the books always said, and Albert had yet to see it fail. Dead, the man dropped to the floor behind Jill. K-bar clanked against the wooden beams, unused. Pistol lowered, he stared at the woman before him. Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking her for being anyone other than Jill Valentine. It was the eyes, really. The white t-shirt she wore was now stained with blood along the neckline, blue jeans torn with one dark spot that probably was saturated with blood. Holstering his pistol, the blonde stepped forward.

"I know you …"Jill said softly, gazing up at him in almost a surreal fashion as the distance between them was reduced to nothing as she began to sob and was well on her way to falling if he hadn't caught her within a tight grasp. His arms, wrapping firmly around her, were probably the only comfort that he could possibly offer the woman at that moment. She was in shock, and not likely to be coherent after so much had happened. Her arms, though shaking, snaked around his neck and cinched tightly. They stood there well over ten minutes as she cried in the darkness. "Where's Dad?" Those large blue irises, tinged with reddening whites, stared up at him as the question tore its way free from her mouth.

"He's in prison. He sent me to get you."

"You?" Her eyes asked why.

Brows knitting, his frozen expression finally broke as Wesker finally spoke. "Would be difficult to track you down to keep my promise if you were dead or a human slave in Mexico, my dear." The digits of his right palm swept upwards to brush away some of her brown strands and wipe some of the tears off. That was all it took for her to lose it again, cries and sobs returning tenfold as Jill buried her face against his chest. Right hand finding its way to her back, he tried his best to soothe her, though it was to little avail in a short period of time. They would have to leave soon, or risk having to fight off someone who woke up.

"I wanna leave." Jill finally said, tipping back to stare up at him. As he inspected her hairline and found another wound, the possibility of a concussion ran through Albert's mind. It explained why she hadn't been making much noise before. Could have died from that alone.

'_Those morons.' _Wesker thought angrily, scooping her up into his arms. No shoes to be seen, he didn't care to gather footwear at that point. If anything, he'd give the girl his damn credit card and she could buy whatever she needed -anything, just to get out of that house. The young woman's arms were still looped about his neck, face pressed against Albert's chest as he stepped through the kitchen. Past the dining room, into the living room and out the front door, he tipped his head to rest against hers. "Keep your eyes shut." The captain commanded, stepping over the bodies left littering the deck. Seemed he was getting rusty, as there usually wasn't this much mess or this many bodies to count up.

The sounds of police sirens and an ambulance signaled the end of a terrible night. Clutching onto her, he waited absently as the police stopped and filed out of their cars. The cold air felt great against his heated flesh, though Jill was shivering terribly. The police chief was the first to approach the weary looking Albert, a smile forming on his face. "Captain Wesker, I'm glad you made it out."

Paramedics rushed to the blonde haired man, quickly setting up the gurney for the woman in his arms. "She might have a concussion. I tried to keep her from going into shock." One very calm and collected Wesker informed the two EMTs as they began to look Jill over. A single nod from the olive skinned woman, and he stepped away to join the police chief, who eagerly shook his hand. "Chief Stone, glad to finally meet you, Captain. I wish you had called before things had reached this point. You hurt?" He pointed to the blood now drenched over the blonde's neck and crewneck white shirt peeking out from beneath the dark blue button down.

"No, I'm fine… and I couldn't call, I didn't realize the trouble until it was too late. May have killed the girl if I had waited any longer." Wesker replied, arms folding over the smear of darkness stained on his uniform's top. Sweat and blood were typical.

"True, these boys don't look like they were fooling around. Dick Valentine made some harsh enemies." To the chief's comment, Wesker had none.

Several officers slipped into the house, and returned within a few minutes with at least one man handcuffed. He looked like someone had smashed a brick against his face. Wesker glanced to the chief, amid the blue and red lights illuminating the light his modest shrug was quite visible. "Left one alive at least."

"Would have been happier if you peppered holes into all of them, honestly. These drug cartels are turning my neighborhoods into a warzone." Chief Stone grumbled, pulling a pipe from his pocket. Lighting it, he puffed absently as the officers began to conduct their initial investigation. Very open and shut case, considering the circumstances. Really was their own fault for not hopping up to plate to have a show down with these, now dead or maimed, thugs.

"Do any of you know Dick's relationship to these degenerates?" Albert asked, almost making Stone jump with an abrupt question. Captain Wesker was quite…different than the chief had expected. Silent as the grave until something peaked his curiosity.

"Yes, he's cut a deal with the DA's office to serve his sentence in Raccoon City in return for testimony against the ring leader: Jose Arvada. Seems that Dick will be your problem very soon, Captain."

"I suppose that's a fair trade considering the mess I've made in your territory, Chief. Not to mention terrorizing a neighborhood."

Chief Stone chuckled, shrugging a bit. Reaching up, he scratched absently at the thinning hair near the back of his head. "Alright, I'll call you when your testimony is needed, Captain Wesker. I'm going to take a guess that Miss Valentine will be in your care until further notice."

"Dick is an old friend of the family, my intentions are only to keep Jill out of trouble and put Denver in her 'rear view mirror'. Raccoon City should provide her with a job and a new start that isn't at taxpayer's expense with halfway houses and the sort." Oh how he knew the perfect way to twist things into his favor, such a clever man.

"Not too worried about her picking up Daddy's trade?" The chief asked.

"No."

'_Yes…'_

He really was concerned about that, though that was none of Chief Stone's business. "However, if it ever did come to that, she's likely to be doing it in Raccoon and then it's my problem, again."

"Huh, you're just looking to take this entire mess off my hands…except for the bodies—"

"And the press that your men were the ones who gunned down the drug cartel, if you so desire. I'm sure a man in your position could use such good press in these trying times with elections so close. No casualties on your force's part and I'm sure these drug dealers left something in those nice Buicks."

That was it, the chunk of gold Wesker only needed to offer the Chief to make all of this go away and he could get back on the road. So simple and it was downright pathetic in Albert's mind that such men would need headlines to keep their ties to the mayor's office in good standards. Still, Stone took the bait.

"Very well, though I will need you to gather her statements about what happened, fax them to me and possibly bring her back as a witness if we need her against Arvada." Chief Stone said, relighting his pipe once more.

"It will be done." Wesker said with a smirk, gaze tilting to the ambulance. Jill was sitting up, talking to the female paramedic. Back on the deck, the heavy set Hispanic man sat straight up, finally having woken from the knock out. Rising to his feet, he tried to make a break for it, only to have four officers dog pile him on the lawn. "Guess I left two alive."

"You're killing me, Wesker." The chief sighed, opening the driver's door of his car. "We'll be in touch. Get back to Raccoon City safely." With that, the chief was gone.

The flash of forensics' cameras was growing somewhat annoying, and Albert finally made his way towards the ambulance. Approaching, he waited quietly for the medical team to finish their evaluation. Trying to ignore the fact that they were not following procedure to the letter (though the woman seemed to have covered all the bases that her less experienced counterpart kept fumbling over) he set his focus on the brunette woman who couldn't seem to stop staring at him. It was better than tormenting himself or snapping at the pair for doing things incorrectly. "Will she need to go to the hospital?"

The olive skinned woman twisted about, smiling to him. "No, she'll be fine. The cut on her forehead won't need stitching and there is no concussion, sir. I butterflied it, and if she doesn't feel that she needs to go to the hospital, then she is free to go with you. No rape, so no need for a rape kit."

"I'm ready to leave..." A hushed voice uttered from the lips of Miss Valentine, gaze settled on Wesker as she began to slip in his direction.

Sheepishly, Wesker stepped forward to aid her off of the medical bed, giving her some space to stand after. The cold cement under her feet made Jill give a hop or two. Perhaps she should have thrown on socks after her shower this evening. Leading her to the car, he unlocked the passenger door, allowing the woman to climb inside. Stepping around to the other side, he started up the engine and kicked the heat to full blast. "I'm going to make one phone call to let your father know that you're safe and then we'll leave."

"Can I talk to him?" She quickly asked, hands dragging swiftly up and down her forearms to warm them.

"It wouldn't be a good idea, Jill. Since he's trying to help the case against the man who sent these morons to capture you, it would probably be best to have no contact to keep his story and your story from blurring away from reality." Any thoughts or protests on her behalf were squashed, and a single sad nod indicated her submission. Shutting the door, he made the call. Turned away from the car, he certainly did not see Jill's eye rolling at such condescending behavior. He acted as though she was a damn child. _'The last time you saw him, you were barely eighteen…' _

Grumbling, Jill couldn't keep herself from snooping a bit in the car's glove box. Something to distract herself…maybe a book or user's manual. The bottle of Polo caught her attention immediately, which she lifted out to inspect. The usual logo was on the cover, stenciled in gold. What else is a woman going to do when she finds a bottle of cologne in a man's car? Sniff it? Hell yes. Uncapping the top, she took a small whiff of it. It was a crisp smell, reminded her greatly of hunky men doing construction on a beach. Why on a beach? She had no idea. Capping it, and stuffing it back into the glove compartment, she sat back and waited.

Two minutes passed and the captain rejoined her inside of the car. By this time, Jill had his sunglasses on, looking rather perturbed. Reaching into the back seat, he pulled a large leather jacket to the front, slumping it over Jill's shoulder. "Don't have a blanket, but I assume this will do until we arrive in Raccoon City."

"Sure." She said, slipping the jacket to cover her form. Glancing over to him, she smiled briefly. "Thank you."

The thought crossed his mind to wretch the sunglasses from her, but it was swatted away rather quickly as he threw the shifter to 'Drive' and pushed on the gas. That would have been completely uncalled for and rather stupid. Though, it was his last pair…and they were Ray Bans. A soft sigh was the most fuss he made, making a right down the street and heading for the freeway. "You're welcome, Jill."

"It's… Albert, right?"

"Mhm."

"I'm glad you're here." She uttered softly, shifting in the seat to snuggle under the leather jacket. Within ten minutes, she was fast asleep.

"Me too…" He muttered softly, clicking the radio on. More rap about fat white women…

'_Fuck…'_

The urge to take the sunglasses pestered him the entire way back to Raccoon City.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Three: "Raccoon City"**_

The first indication that they were finally reaching Raccoon City would have been when Wesker felt his ears pop. Terrible thing about going to and leaving Denver, they always tended to do that with the altitude. It was mostly the reason he never wanted to be a pilot for a living, it would have driven him insane and into the side of a mountain. One hand rising to rub the right ear, jaw slacking over and over, the pain vanished in a few minutes. Daylight was creeping over the horizon, and they were still twenty minutes from his house. He was dead tired…and hadn't felt this awful from exhaustion in years. Even then, it was due to a stomach virus or some crazy jungle fever from having to hold Spencer's hand to visit a remote lab in a rain forest in the middle of a region where sticks and stones were weapons still. This was all around exhaustion, though Jill had been a good girl and slept the entire trip, thus making it easier for him to unwind after the incident in the house.

Every once in a while, he found himself glancing to her, surprised at how much she had changed. Jill had definitely filled out, curvy though slender. Her face hadn't altered much, though he noticed freckles dotting high on her cheekbones. The once long hair was now cut short, which the man couldn't decide if he liked or not. _'Why would it matter if you liked how she looks? Oh that's right. You're alone and judging women is all you have time to do now. How's that working out?' _

Convinced that Annette had found a way to seat her mentality into his psyche, the inner conversation ceased immediately…with himself. Flicking his cell phone open, Wesker began to dial the RPD. After the ten second conversation with Forest Speyer, the captain realized he may as well have told S.T.A.R.S. to have a frat party while he was gone. They'd certainly be bouncing off the walls, getting nothing done. "Fuck it…" he mumbled, deciding not to care. Chief Irons would show himself if too much noise was being made, and he could handle it. After all, the tubby chief did host the 'scared straight' program for kids.

Another phone call made, he reduced speed as they came within the limits of the suburb that Albert now called 'home'. Three rings before Will picked up.

"William Birkin speaking."

"Hello, Mister Birkin. This is Doctor Richards; I'm calling with your results for 'Foot in Mouth' disease. You needn't worry sir, the results came back negative. You'll continue to speak without thinking."

"Ass." The scientist grumbled on the other end of the line, though did begin to laugh.

A chuckle finally left Wesker's lips, unable to keep up the charade. "How are things in your neck of the woods, Will?"

Stepping over to his computer and pulling up the seat, Birkin gave a deep sigh. The entire office was flooded with scientists and staff, giving William a feeling of claustrophobia outside of the cubicle. "Doing alright, though Annette and Sherry are fighting on a regular basis because of our terrible parenting. I guess we were supposed to attend a play last night and I did not go because of a breakthrough."

"She isn't going to be little forever, William. Might want to take a vacation or a week off to watch Barney with her. The virus will still be there when you come back, just throw it in the freezer." Light changing to yellow, Wesker slowed and came to a halt as the color flicked over to red.

"Hah, this is coming from the man who got her addicted to those shows just to torture me. Considering how much time you spend with her, I'm thinking about lying and telling Sherry that you're her dad." Entering his password, William gazed at the loading screen of his computer terminal. The Umbrella logo spun in a circular motion as the information was processed.

"Oh that's not right. I wouldn't sleep with Annette, she might break something." The blonde said with a snicker.

"Yes, she might. So, why are you calling at this hour? Thought the RPD kept you busy until noon with meetings and whatever other garbage that mucus ball Irons can come up with. It has to be six in the morning." Screen not shifting, William delivered a bang against the computer tower. "I need a new computer."

"Sounds like it. I'm actually taking a day off. Had some things come up." Light shifted to green, he hit the gas to head straight on.

"You are taking a day off? Things? That Wisconsin chick came crawling back to you?" Giving the computer a hard shut down, William began to annoyingly long task of rebooting. "Thought she said 'Eh' too much for you."

"She did… That's not why I'm taking the day off." Clicking on his right hand turn signal, Wesker made the intended turn and sped onward through the neighborhood.

"You're going to keep me in suspense, girlfriend?" William said in a mocking tone.

Sighing, Wesker finally relinquished the information. It was too insane for him not to at least tell the one friend he had maintained over the years. "You remember Dick Valentine?"

"Uh-huh. He was Spencer's buddy until both old farts decided to scare one another. Dick showed his ear hair and Spencer showed him an infected man's eating habits. I think Spencer won that contest. What about him?" The computer fired back up, login screen popping up once more. William began to type in his user ID and password.

"Do you remember his daughter?"

"Vaguely, though the only night I ever saw the girl was from afar." William's tone switched to that of his 'sassy gay man' impression. "She was dancing with some dashingly handsome man who made my loins long for passionate love. Ooooh, I wonder if he's single now."

"Nice, William. I'm gay for you too when you're drunk during your promotional speech."

A laugh escaped Birkin's lips, swiveling in his chair a bit. "Annette still hasn't forgiven me for that." Eyes wandering about the lab, Will set his view on two women chatting away by the water cooler.

"Anyway, Dick is back in prison for theft and other charges. Doesn't look like the old man will spend another day of his life walking a free man. He called me and asked me to pick her up before some Colombian drug cartel thugs managed to get to her."

"Es no bueno. And did you?" William asked, waiting for the login screen to swap over and allow him in. When it finally did, he quickly set to work opening the program for his lab journal.

"I did. She's sound asleep in the car next to me. Dick was calling from Denver about it yesterday." He replied, glancing to the sleeping Valentine in the passenger seat. Woman could sleep through a hurricane more than likely. Jealousy flooded the blonde's thoughts at such a wonderful ability.

"Hrm, that doesn't sound so bad." Closing out the journal, William glanced to a small two by five picture of Sherry taped to his monitor.

"Wouldn't have been if I had arrived there before ten at night without eight or nine thugs at the house to collect her." Arriving at last, he swiftly pulled his car into the driveway. Albert's home was a single story brick house that didn't hold too many personal effects in the front yard. It seemed plain, though maintained to the same standard as every other house around the block. "They weren't happy to see me."

"But you're such a swell guy. They wouldn't know good people if one came up and socked them in the face." Opening another folder on his desktop, William waited for his solitaire game to load.

Engine killed and car door swung wide open, Wesker stepped out of the vehicle, finally able to stretch. The air was still chilled, but it felt great to be standing after ten hours of driving back and forth from Denver. "Some got that lesson, though most had to be dealt with the old fashioned way, including the one who was not too subtle with his intentions of selling her as a sex object."

"Jesus, Albert. How many did you put down?"

"Seven. Eight. I can't remember right now, I'm exhausted." Free arm coming to rest on the roof of his car, he yawned deeply. Tugging the earpiece out of his other ear, the blonde haired man allowed the device to simply hang from its strap on his vest.

"Yeah, I'm usually exhausted after I go on my weekly 'Jack the Ripper' spree too, ya psycho. What were you thinking?" Birkin asked, heading for the door leading out of the office. It was coffee time, again.

"At that time, not a great deal. I owed Dick some money and this was a way to settle that out. Wouldn't you agree?" The sun was climbing slowly, though the red dawn was slowly shifting in color. William was well aware of what Dick had done for Albert, considering that even Birkin was throwing his chips in against Spencer.

"I suppose, though I don't go save debt collectors kids that are in trouble when I want out of a debt. I just pay it off, and I know you have the cash. Not like 'what's her face' that you got knocked up wants anything to do with you or your money. House bought, no girlfriend, not even a dog." Pouring a cup of coffee, William took a long swig from the mug. The scientist knew all too well how to pick apart his friend's bullshit, and loved doing it.

"Cute." Albert's brow cringed lightly at the memory of a child he didn't even know. A boy that was growing up with a bitch of a mother that never let the blonde man know where they were. She kept it that way, and even Umbrella couldn't track them down. "The man offered me thirty five hundred to let him sell her off. Half of what she would sell for."

"Seven grand for a girl? I think I wipe my ass with more than seven grand every year in toilet paper." William snorted, striding down the hallway back to the office. That cute lab tech who didn't enjoy the restraints of a bra was working today. Giving her a head to toe glance from behind, the chief of research shook his head with a goofy little grin. _'You go girlfriend. Now someone just hit the AC.' _"Terrible what the world is coming to." Birkin said at last.

"As though we don't know anything about that, right, William?" Shutting the door, the blonde haired man walked down the driveway to check his mailbox. A few children were playing across the street, and the littlest one, Anne Richards, was yelling furiously at her older sister during their make-believe game. This resulted in more squabbling under the trees of their front yard.

"Nope, wouldn't know a damn thing about that my friend." The scrawny scientist retorted, beginning his daily ritual of card games. G-virus results were still on the way. Somehow he always managed to lose at these games at around thirty-six hours of no sleep. Easy way to tell when it was time to take a break and resume later.

Opening the mailbox, finding nothing, Albert finally sighed. Upon shutting the box's door, he suddenly had a question. "Do you think I'm losing my mind?" He asked, striding back up the driveway.

Leaning back in his chair, William laughed a bit. "As a member of Umbrella, I believe you did what was right by the company to protect individuals of interest that we don't need falling in the wrong hands. You should be given a gold star for today from Uncle Ozwell."

"How about as a friend, William." His gaze twisted to the car as the passenger door opened. Stepping out, draped in the leather jacket with a pair of aviators that definitely did not fit her facial structure, Jill still seemed only half awake. Brows popped, he pointed to the front door. No need to tell her twice, she made for it. Realizing he hadn't given her keys was about the time he noticed she somehow got in anyway. "What the… Did she just pick my front door lock?" He quietly asked, no intentions of said question receiving a real answer. Of course she'd picked the lock with a thief's quiet hand.

_'Maybe this was a mistake.' _

_'You think?'_

"If you really want my opinion as a friend, then make dinner for Annette, Sherry, this new roommate of yours and myself tonight. Feel free to make something for you too. Hate to see you starving yourself to maintain your figure."

"Fine. How does chicken sound?" Albert asked, some heat filling his voice as he approached his front door. If she honestly thought that rules could be violated, the woman had another thing coming!

"Chicken sounds like bawk bawk bawk, but whatever floats your boat. I suppose they could bark or moo. I get confused sometimes myself." It was growing clearer that William was reaching his thirty-six hour mark, as sarcasm seemed to be the only venue in which he spoke. Dropping the humor before Albert hung up, he laughed. "We'll be there around sixish… Annette and I are leaving within the hour to get some rest."

"See you then." With that he hung up. Not only was he exhausted, he had an infamous headache from William twisting everything said into a joke. It seemed to happen every Tuesday. The digits of his right palm roughly drug against his eyes and to the temple before dropping. _'Now where did she go?' _Striding toward the hallway on the far side of the spacious living room, away from the front door, he peeked into his own room first. Not there.

The faint sound of flushing heard, water ran, and then she emerged from the bathroom. With how she appeared, he only could imagine that they both looked like warmed over death. Sunglasses propped atop her head, a dark circle was forming under her unbruised eye. The split lower lip was showing signs of bruising around it. "Where can I sleep?" Jill finally asked, rubbing her face vigorously.

'_It isn't worth conflict now, you're exhausted. Specify it as a rule later.'_ He took his own bribe, procrastinating.

"Just take my bedroom. I'll sleep on the sofa this afternoon. Master bathroom has towels in the cabinet if you decide to shower. We'll have some familiar faces over for dinner; if you don't mind some social interaction after…what probably was the most terrifying night of your life." Lips forming into a thin line after, the man wanted to allow his head to sink between his shoulders. Shit, he probably shouldn't have let William talk him into dinner. Not because it might disturb Jill, but he really didn't think another meltdown by the woman in front of Annette would bode well for him.

"Sounds good, I might bow out early and sleep more if you don't mind. Not feeling incredibly social with people that I don't know, but know Dad." She replied, hoarse as can be.

"So kind of you to abandon me in my hour of need." He said with a smirk in the dry humor, seeming to warm up to her as the moments passed. Now he remembered why distinct details stood out about her: she didn't irritate him with ridiculous nonsense. "Its fine, Jill. Take the time you need, but I need sleep."

Nodding, she stepped closer to him, as it seemed some of that old shyness hadn't completely vanished. Arms slipping about him, she gave the blonde haired man a gentle hug before tottering off to the bedroom for some much needed sleep. As the door shut, he realized that once again he forgot the sunglasses.

"Son of a…" He growled and then sighed harshly, finding his way over to the leather sofa. "Forget it." Flopping on it, face down, he did not wish to budge an inch. Kicking off his boots was too much effort; removing his gun was on the same page as the boots. In about five minutes, he was out like a light. Motionless, breathing steadily, Albert had earned a decent rest undisturbed.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Jill was making herself comfortable. For the house being a bachelor's home, it was very clean and tidy. The bedroom was much the same, though there were books stacked in any available shelf or case that lined one wall. The farthest wall that trailed along a path with the king sized bed into the master bathroom was completely dotted with what looked to be reprints of certain works by Leonardo da Vinci. Jill Valentine wasn't great with art, as that was Dick's forte, but she did recognize the Vitruvian Man. A few clothes were on the floor, which she put into the hamper next to the bathroom's door. The sunglasses, she gently set on the nightstand next to the bed, and the leather jacket was hung on the back of the bedroom door. Fingers trailing over the RPD identification badge on the stand, the emotionless face of Albert Wesker stared back at her in ink. A smile crept over her lips, feeling ease washing over.

Her t-shirt was ruined, tossed off and put in the hamper as well. Jeans kicked off, she examined the large scrape that had already scabbed over along her left leg. It hurt so friggin' bad. Teeth grit, she plucked a few fibers of torn jean out of it. Examining her lime green painted toenails, she frowned at the color being chipped from her left big toe, which was dirty, along with the rest of her feet from walking barefooted.

_'Things could have been worse. If there ever was a God in Heaven, this was the sign I couldn't ignore. Should try to be a decent guest and earn my keep while this mess is sorted out.'_

Fatigue wafting over her once more, Miss Valentine crawled under the comforter and between the sheets. Eyes closing and opening repeatedly, she sighed. The scent of him was all around, and she did her best to ignore it until the sandman came.

Wesker first woke around four 'o clock, though it took about half an hour before the six foot man climbed off the couch. Sore, still fighting off sleep, he made for the guest bathroom. Light switch clicked on, Albert took a glance at his appearance. Stubble had already begun to show along his jaw line and chin. No time to shave, he exited only to check on the young lady occupying his bed. Knocked out still, the blonde haired man gathered a black shirt, jeans and clean socks in the quietest form possible. _'I'll give her another half hour.'_

The hot water in the shower felt excellent, pelting away the wear and tear from the night before in warmth. Hair slicked back after a good rinse, he spat away some of the water trying to catch between his lips. Gray eyes finally opening, Albert inwardly sighed. "What now?" he asked the walls. They had no answer for him, only the sound of running water filling the air. Expression stiff as stone, the water was cut off and the man hastily dried off and changed.

Once out of the bathroom, the sounds of water running distantly registered. Good, she was up again and cleani- "Shit, she has no clothes." Albert huffed, heading for the laundry room. Finding a clean RPD shirt and some pajama pants with a drawstring, he returned to the door of his bedroom, opening it only to toss the two articles on the bed. Sighing, it was yet another thing piled on his plate aside from business as usual; caring for her until the girl was on her feet. _'She might not end up leaving if you play your cards right…'_ His expression dropped at such a thought. "Am I really that fucking needy right now?" He growled at his own inner self before stalking off into the kitchen.

The 'Birkin Tribe' hadn't arrived yet, though dinner was prepared and the table set. Jill had decided to make an appearance, in the clothes provided. Brow quirked, Wesker realized her presence after the last of the silverware was placed. "You're up. Good. I hope you don't feel too awkward, but I didn't get a chance to wash your other clothes."

"It's fine." She started, offering a faint smile upon stepping into the dining room. One hand reached back, itching absently at the tag, the woman's gaze set upon him. "I…" Seemed the cat had her tongue just before the doorbell rang. That was enough to cause a grin to play across his lips as Albert stepped past her to answer it. The exchange of greetings at the front door caused the young Valentine to follow.

Annette was in the middle of giving Albert a hug, mentioning something about how long it had been since they had gotten together. William stepped past all of them to head for the kitchen with two bottles of wine within his grasp. A kind nod given to Jill, he kept walking without so much as a word. _'Probably noticed the lovely shiner on my eye. I look like a poster child for battered women.' _Jill thought miserably, still hovering nearby.

Sherry happily ran inside, jumping around in a red dress with matching ties in her hair. It was the little girl who broke the ice and actually spoke to Jill. Little hand pointed up, she gasped at the woman. "You hit your head!" The littlest Birkin chirped, dashing up to grab onto Jill's hand. "My daddy is a doctor. He'll fix you." She said in a matter of fact tone, dragging the woman along with her as the crusade to find Daddy began. "DADDY!"

"Yes, Sherry?" William replied, finding himself face to face with his daughter with the Valentine girl in her custody. "What's wrong?"

"She hit her head! You have to help her!" The urgency of the child's tone caused a smile to break out on Jill's face. This little one didn't appear to be held back by the age old 'Don't talk to strangers' at all. No, let's drag them to Dad and have him fix them up.

Laughing, William scooped up his daughter. "I'm sorry; she's just like her mother."

"I heard that." A feminine voice retorted, and Annette stepped into view. Striding over to Sherry and Will, she placed a little kiss on their daughter's cheek. "I resemble it too, considering that it would imply compassion." To that remark, William made a mock hiss sound of pain.

"You cut me deep, Annette." The slender man replied, brows popped a few quick times at his mate. An eye roll was his reply, along with a changing of the subject as to where the wine glasses were. He won.

Arms folded, Jill didn't really know what to say to the pair, as they gazed at her. She had this suspicion that she was huddling, though couldn't be sure. She recognized the pair vaguely, more so Annette than Will.

Annette broke the silence at last. "Have you talked to your father yet, Jill?"

"No, I haven't." A sad reply, though Albert slipped next to the young woman.

"Denver Police will call when Dick is allowed another phone call. They moved him into solitary confinement for his own protection." The blonde answered, seeming to make the effort of keeping Jill from just dragging herself back to bed. She looked about ready to sneak off.

It was William who would pipe up and keep that from happening. "Well, we all want you to know that you're in the company of friends. Your father's work for us has been very important, and I'm sure you have an idea of what kind of jobs he was doing. He's a good friend of Spencer and you will get a fresh start here. No better place to stay either; I hear that your roommate runs half of the police force." A glance to Wesker, then back to Miss Valentine. "Trust me; you're not going to fall between the cracks in Raccoon City."

Annette nodded in turn, sipping on her glass of red wine.

It was a lot to digest in a few seconds, and the warm arm slipping about her shoulders from Wesker was comforting as well. Nodding, she forced a smile. "Thank you."

The next thing would be tears, so it was time to change the subject. "Anyway, food is ready if we want to eat." Albert said, dropping his arm from about Jill's shoulders abruptly. He almost visually chided himself for touching her. Following the others, a sigh of relief escaped her lips, though Sherry was trying to get her attention now.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Jill." The woman replied, smiling broadly to the Birkins' daughter.

"Well, I'm Sherry." No time for proper social exchanges, as Sherry already darted for her seat at the table.

After dinner, the two men went out onto the back porch to discuss a few things. This left Annette and Jill to talk. Sherry finally wore herself out from running around and now was sound asleep on the loveseat across from them.

"So, what do you think of Albert?" Mrs. Birkin suddenly asked, taking a swig from her wine glass.

Jill was caught off guard, blinking at such a direct question. "I…well; he's been very kind to take me in while I get back on my feet. Don't want to think about where I'd be if he hadn't shown up."

The blonde haired woman nodded, gaze shifted to the sliding glass doors that led out back. "You know, if things become uncomfortable at all, for you, we have an entire two story house that is barely lived in and you are more than welcome to come stay. William and I work so many hours, and don't really have a life outside of our work."

"I don't really follow." Jill replied, brows quirked.

Annette gave Jill her 'look', frowning. "He's a man, and you're a beautiful woman, don't forget that. From one woman to another, if something happens, you always have an out. It's a good idea to have a plan B in Raccoon City. Economy fluctuates as much as the small town politics do. So do relationships in this area. I lucked out with Will."

"I understand." Jill replied, finally taking a drink from her wine glass. The red wine was a bit bitter, but warm against the tongue. "I still don't think he would make advances toward me –doesn't seem to fit him."

"Albert is very hard to read. I've known him so long that a lot of his behaviors are easy for me to spot. He's been alone for quite some time now, so don't take any flack off of him." Annette shifted her gaze to one of the paintings on the wall. "Still…" Her words trailed off.

"Still what?" Jill's curiosity was peaked.

"He danced with you the entire night when you first met him. I still don't think for a moment that he was just being nice. If he wanted to just be nice, he could have not rejected several who tried to drag him out on that floor, but nope."

"He promised the last dance for me even though he had to leave."

Annette nearly fell off the couch, snorting. "Oh my god, he baited you! That is such a sleazy move! You'd always remember him as that sweet and handsome man who just wanted to know what was on your mind. Oh my… Let me tell you a story…"

Meanwhile, outside, a similar conversation was going on between William and Albert.

"So, nail her yet?"

"For fuck's sake, Will." Wesker grumbled, taking a long swig from a glass of bourbon. He hated wine, especially that red wine Annette couldn't live without. "Why does everyone think I'm a slut?"

"Oh? From our conversation earlier today, I thought you might be swooping that way." He did his best to ignore the slut question.

"Swooping is bad." Albert replied, taking another sip.

"Very bad, though to answer your question," turning to face the blonde man, "I think that you are out of your mind. You drove ten hours to rescue Dick Valentine's daughter from Colombians that tried to make Dick take the fall for two murders. You killed most of them, from what it sounds like." No reply was given to Will, though he waited for it. The other man just continued to sip on that drink of his. "Albert, you cannot coax most men to do that for their wives, let alone a woman that you barely know! Your reasoning? 'I owed Dick money, it's not like I want to bang his daughter Will. Seriously.' How am I supposed to perceive this? You don't date, you only work and this is the first woman I've even seen you standing near that isn't my wife, since Miss 'Eh'." Ah, William…always the pessimistic one.

"I thought you liked the girl from Wisconsin."

"I wanted to peel my own eyes out every time she spoke." William scoffed, taking a drink of wine.

"Huh, should have married her then. In all reality, looking out for Spencer's ring of 'friends' is still part of my job. Couldn't have him suspecting that I don't give to damn about what happens to him, the board, or those who have ties that are hanging by a thread. Would raise questions about what I am doing…" Albert gazed inside, noticing the two women were talking as well. _'That cannot be good.'_

"Possibly, but don't forget that you get to inform Spencer of the Colombians."

"Already done, actually… Irons handled that. I figured that the slob could use more money for his taxidermy obsession by running the errand."

"I just ate, please save the Chief Irons discussions for another time."

"Fine, though all of this is going to be much easier with Miss Valentine in Raccoon City. Dick is serving what time he has to in this town. Could easily use the pair to take what we need. Not like I don't have the authority to move Mister Valentine to the RPD itself from the jailhouse for 'questioning'. Just schedule a little field trip at that point."

"Is she going to be on board right away?"

"Hah! Don't think so, William. I'm hesitant to try to talk to Jill about such matters any time soon. Aside from being shook up, there is no telling what a young woman with a mind of her own is capable of doing."

"Any plans on fixing that?" The scientist asked.

"Certainly, though they're still cooking. Don't worry, old friend. We'll see this storm through and be able to walk away."

"Then you can marry the girl and have babies that I can corrupt with the latest children's shows. It's only fair after the Barney bit with Sherry."

Wesker couldn't keep himself from a malicious little grin. "But Barney is so educational." His voice was laced with innocence but William would probably never forgive him for letting Sherry watch it when she was very young.

"So is the class I give at the University… People still pass out halfway through it…and I don't have to buy thirty of those stupid stuffed animals that are still at my house." William grumbled, finishing the wine and turning for the door. Stopping short, he tipped his head to look back at his friend. "I'd avoid fucking her or anything else. We need the old man and her skills. Just hit the nearest bar for a girl that's about as bright as a five watt bulb." With that, not another word would be spoken on the matter as both men headed inside.

Annette and Jill were laughing about something, and it caused Sherry to stir from her slumber. The two men entered and joined them in the living room. Joining in on the conversation, the four almost lost track of time. The topic? William and Albert's first trip to South America with Umbrella that nearly ended an international crisis along with the blonde haired man coming down with a rare jungle fever. Despite both matters being dire at their time, some funny little bits sprang up in the discussion.

It wasn't long before the Birkins needed to leave, and then they were alone. Locking the door behind him after the family left, the man felt somewhat concerned about how the rest of the evening would unfold. Thoughts of such were brushed aside, not a sliver of worry to be found on his face as Wesker rounded the corner into the kitchen. "Oh, I was going to take care of those, Jill." Referring to the filled sink and dishes half done.

"I'll be done in a bit." The woman said softly, smiling a bit as she rinsed one plate off and set it in the drying rack. Next was a wine glass, and so on.

He didn't budge, leaning against the counter near her. Finishing the glass of bourbon, Albert handed it over to her for cleaning as well. Taking it from him, she immediately dunked the glass into the soapy water. The woman must have felt his gaze upon her, head tipping and blue irises fixing their stare upon him in return. Her motions ceased, aside from shutting the water in the sink off. Dishes weren't done, though. Silence filled the kitchen as they stood there.

There was something about her, and it had been pestering him since the beginning. Something different that set her apart from other people in a vast way. The blonde man's intuition and ability to read people was how he had made his way through the world thus far. There were many things very easy to pick up about her just by being near her. One stuck out more than the others…

'_You can trust her. Just like her father, a degenerate with a heart of gold. Robin Hood types.'_

Just as he was about to say something, oh he was so sure he had something to say, the phone rang. Clearing his throat, Albert slipped off to answer it. Nearly midnight… Who would even be calling?

Jill bowed her head, a sad sigh escaping her lips as he exited the room. She didn't want to believe that he would use her… Maybe Annette was right. Water turned back on, Valentine hurried to finish the dishes. Once done, she saw that he was still on the phone. Wandering into the living room, she tried to watch television. It was something to do aside from thinking about all Annette had said or the trauma still rolling around in her skull from the night before.

"Don't worry too much, Miss Wong. He'll come back around… I'm sure you'll figure all of that out." Phone off, Wesker slipped back into the living room. _'Should just fuck Ada. Keeps things simple.'_

Jill was out like a light, curled up under a blanket she'd found. Eyes wandering to the television, he could see why. "Fucking hate Wheel of Fortune." Remote clicking the tube off, he watched her for a few moments. Bloodied, beaten, bruised and still strong enough to endure Annette and William for an evening. She was ready for Raccoon City it seemed.

Stepping into his bedroom, the blonde stripped and crawled into his bed. Her perfume lingered still. Switching to the other side of the bed, he did his best to ignore it and try to fall asleep.

Poor Al, next morning he'd wake up face planted right in the middle of the pillow she'd been occupying.

And he'd apologize to no one for it.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter Four: "Circus at the Police Department"**_

The alarm began its usual buzz at six 'o clock in the darkened room. Small traces of light littered the floor as the sun was cresting over the horizon outside. Someone stirred beneath the comforter, as a hand jetted out to silence the clock. Blankets tossed back, one very drowsy Albert Wesker shifted to sit on the edge. Rigorously rubbing away the sleep clinging still, he rose and headed for the bathroom. Usual ritual of shower and shave, he was done in no time and left the room. Sometime during the night, he remembered the need to wash her clothing… or so it seemed. Could have been sleep organizing again, he didn't really recall or care. What mattered was that today they would be going to the RPD to tie up these last loose ends with Denver and be done with it. A quick trip to the washroom and her clothing was retrieved.

'_Irons will probably be curious as to why it has fallen to his police department, considering that the story I told to William was just to get him off of my back about it. Spencer already knew and to think the old wolf didn't was just ignorance.' _

Retreating to his walk in closet after tossing Jill's clothing onto the bed, the blonde quickly began to dress. The man only stepped out after he was down to just tightening his belt.

Opening the door to his bedroom, he was blessed with the sight of Jill two seconds from knocking. She jumped, one hand reaching to cover her heart. "I was just about to…"

"Knock? Here are your clothes. Don't take too long in the bathroom." Frozen words, he was back to his usual self. Not even a hint of the man that wrecked her house and gave her strength.

"Right." She muttered, taking the clothes and retreating to the guest bathroom.

"Don't take too long. I know how most women say 'ten minutes' and it ends up being four hours."

Her expression fell flat just before she disappeared inside.

'_Most women would have crawled into that bed with you last night too, jackass.' _She thought bitterly as she shut the door a little harder than normal.

He was left to his own devices as the sound of the shower came on.

'_She's naked in there.'_

"Oh shut up…" He hissed at himself, marching to the kitchen. Coffee time.

Fifteen minutes later she emerged dressed and still holding her flat expression. "I need shoes." She stated, arms folded.

Albert cast a glance up to her from the newspaper, one brow lifting higher than the other at her attitude. _'Probably that time of the month. I know I did not invoke this.' _A shrug given, he folded the paper, and rose from the chair. "We'll stop by the shopping center on the way, but be quick about it."

"Fine." She said.

"Fine?" He asked, though shook his head and grabbed the car keys. Heading for the front door, he could almost feel the woman right on his heels and her angry expression trying to set him aflame. Allowing her passage, he sidestepped and locked the door as they departed. Once in the car, the situation didn't get much better, as Jill ignored his attempt at conversation. Nor at the shopping center, as she threw him a dirty look before heading inside and returning with much the same expression as before only with a pair of boots in her possession. _'What the fuck has gotten into her?'_

She didn't offer much of a reason as the pair of tall brown boots was tossed on over her feet. Jill didn't have to. She was a woman. She won automatically.

Luckily Wesker was smart enough to know that and not invoke any more of her passive wrath. He settled for watching the road and leaving her to wallow in her anger.

Arriving at the RPD, the pair made their way past several uniforms who were occupying the front lobby. A few offered greetings to the captain and a look to the woman following him. Jill still felt that everyone was staring at the damage done to her face. _'I look like a hot mess…' _Her gaze set forward, she marched on behind Wesker.

A rather burly looking man approached wearing a red shirt. "Hey Captain, have you seen Brad?" Stopping short, he tossed a glance to Jill before his eyes returned to Wesker.

"No Barry, I haven't. You might want to check the helipad." The reply was brief and Albert continued moving without so much as pausing. Whatever the bearded man had to say, it was muted out once the door swung open to the S.T.A.R.S. office.

Several members of the team were scattered throughout the room; busily working, chatting it up… or arm wrestling in Chris and Forest's case.

"Well, I'm glad to see the zoo survived without me." The only thing he said, but the sound of Wesker's voice seemed to slice right through the room and grab everyone's attention. With that done, all of their eyes then went to Jill.

'_Not again. I may as well be shaking a tin cup here…'_ She thought, a hand awkwardly rising to shadow the bruise on her eye.

"Get back to work. Forest, please find Brad and top off the helicopters in case we're lifting off tonight." With that, Wesker somehow navigated to his desk for something. Everyone in the way quickly cleared out. Seemed that he was almost feared in this room… Top dog in a box of puppies.

Albert didn't need to tell the lanky boy-man twice, as the arm wrestling match was over once Forest's attention was drug from Chris to the team's slave driver. Sighing, the long haired Forest Speyer grabbed his jacket and made for the door, Redfield taunting him the entire way out. His only reply was shooting Chris the finger.

A girl dressed in white and green poked her head in from the hallway. "Captain, Chief Irons wants to see you."

'_Lovely! Who else wants to get a case of the ass with me today?'_ The blonde thought angrily, plucking a file from the desk. A nod given to the girl, he replied, "Tell him that I will be there in two minutes." File placed in front of Chris, Wesker's gaze fell upon the brunette. "Chris, take her statement, leave it on my desk."

Half paying attention, Chris' head swiveled to meet Captain Wesker's gaze. "Who?"

"Her!" Pointing to Jill, it was becoming clear that this might end up being a bad day for the S.T.A.R.S. team. Without another word, the captain exited the room. All was silent, for about five seconds.

"Way to be on your 'A' game, Chris! I thought we would be able to go one day without Captain Wesker throwing a stapler at you." A bandana wearing man in the back said. Joseph Frost. The entire room burst into laughter afterwards, excluding Jill and Chris.

"Yeah, Ed go ahead and take down the one day that we accumulated for 'Days gone without an incident'." The baritone voiced man in the far corner said, chuckling intensely. Kenneth Sullivan is who Jill would know him as one day.

"Aww! It looked so nice on our wall." The man who must have been 'Ed' said.

Seeming tired of the taunting, Chris climbed up from his seat. "Come on, we'll do this in the questioning room." He offered a kind smile to the woman, gesturing to the door. More jokes made at the expense of Chris were uttered, though ignored.

"Alright, right behind you." She replied, following after the taller man out.

In Chief Irons' office, Wesker was pondering bashing his skull against the statue situated within the ridiculous looking room.

"…And whose permission did you have to take this upon yourself? The last thing I need in the papers is that the man who I put as leader of S.T.A.R.S. has tendencies to run the countryside butchering mobsters!"

Completely incorrect…

"Another thing! Chief Stone said that you maimed the two that lived. For fuck's sake! What am I going to do when the press gets their fingers in this?"

Arms folded, Wesker finally spoke. "It would be rather difficult for me to fill the last slot within my team if the recruit I desired to have vanished without a trace."

"…What?"

"You heard me. None of my team can crack a simple combination lock, let alone a vault or even a door if needed. Her skills are an asset that I cannot ignore. She was taught by the best and is the best after her father dies in prison." His voice was cold as ice, though spoke some truth.

The chief finally sat down, huffing a bit. "You expect me to believe that you really want to hire a criminal's daughter because they taught her the tricks of the trade?"

"Yes, I do. Gives us the advantage and keeps her from ending up becoming someone we chase in the end. It's your call, I suppose..."

"No, it isn't. It's your team and you've built it to perfection for me thus far. I suppose I can see where you're coming from." Irons said with a sigh. "Next time, just let me know and we'll follow the proper procedure for handling this."

To keep himself from just causing Brian Irons' face to collapse in from trauma due to a paperweight being slammed against the tubby man's skull repeatedly; Wesker cleared his throat, nodded and left the office. There was nothing to be said at that point. Fat ass thought he had a clue how to do anything brighter than wipe his ass, and he honestly didn't. Wesker had built S.T.A.R.S., not Irons. Marching down the hallway, the captain nearly knocked a traffic cop over who was carrying a few boxes.

In the questioning room, Chris sat at one end of the table as Jill resided at the other. Thumbing through the pages, he finally glanced up to her. She was absently biting at her thumbnail. "So, what happened to you?"

"I was attacked by men who were trying to frame my father at my house in Denver. It's on Parker Avenue…"

"So, why are we taking your statement? Shouldn't this have been done in Denver?"

To that question, Jill just shrugged. She really had no clue. "I'm not the police officer here."

Sighing, Chris began to fill out the sheet. "Okay, so why would these men frame your father?"

"Because he stole things for them."

"Such as?"

"Drugs, gold, diamonds… Anything they wanted and could pay for."

"Why frame him?"

"They killed some people… I heard them boasting about it in the kitchen after I barricaded myself in my bedroom. Probably didn't want to pay him either."

Redfield quickly jotted down everything that she said, nodding. "Anything else? Miss…?"

"Valentine. Jill Valentine."

Sitting back, Chris blinked. "Wait wait.. Valentine? Who's your dad?"

"Dick Valentine, why?"

"Wow, he's been all over the news. I mean, he's known for being the best thief alive." The brunette man said distantly, shrugging. "Sorry to hear that happened to him and you." Subject dismissed, though it seemed she felt a bit better with someone who was sympathetic. "I need to know how you ended up with the cut and bruise."

"Short Colombian man… His name was Marco. Don't know a last name, was too busy trying to avoid having my throat slit. He was shot dead."

"Ah, I heard a little about what Captain Wesker did." Leaning against the table, Chris wrote more on the paper before him.

To that comment, her brows lifted. "What's that supposed to mean?" The expression written on Jill's face was of disgust and confusion.

"Well, he… Oh." Redfield's stare met hers and he instantly backed down. "There are a lot of rumors flying about the PD about what Wesker did."

"He saved my life."

"Why would he drop everything and drive all the way to Denver to save you? That's what nobody has figured out."

"Because she is my new recruit. Is that a problem, Chris?" The captain's icy voice rang out in Jill's defense. He had entered the room silent as death, which always made Chris uneasy. Leaning against the wall near the door, arms folded over his broad chest, Captain Wesker had been watching them for a while. The man seemed completely at ease aside from his frosty expression with the fires of anger slowing seeping out. The usual sunglasses perched on top of his head; steel eyes were burning a hole in Chris' head. "Come on, Jill. That's all you needed to tell him."

Rising from her seat, the woman nodded and followed the captain out of the room as soon as the door swung open. Dumbfounded, she said nothing else. Had he just lied for her or was that true? _'Oh the irony… Being a cop.'_

"Fax that statement to the Denver PD, Chris. I'm gone for the rest of the day." With that, Wesker and Jill were gone, the door slammed as the pair exited. Sometimes, Chris swore that the captain really hated him deep down. Returning to the office, Redfield couldn't keep himself from feeling like a bit of an ass for offending her. Frankly, he thought it was pretty amazing that the captain would step out of the judicial system's box to protect someone. Very unlike the captain, but it was admirable. Despite some bitterness between them, Wesker had won quite a few points in Chris' book.

_'If she's a recruit, that means I'll have to face the music eventually. Great.' _He thought with a sigh, turning the fax machine on. The number was scrolled on a post-it residing on Wesker's desk and he made haste to get the information sent off.

Back in the car, the two sat in silence for a few minutes. Sunlight danced over Jill's hands, warming them despite the chill in the air outside. Engine humming softly, it was the sound that filled the dead quiet otherwise. Finally, she spoke.

"I'm not like most women." Jill stated, brows popping at his reaction.

The reason for her attitude caused the blonde haired man to laugh. A laugh from the stress and having most of it dissipate as she spoke. "Jesus, Jill… I wasn't trying to push buttons."

Shrugging, Jill sat back in her seat. "Was a switch from how you were last night."

"I'm not a morning person." He replied, sunglasses finally situated against his face to block out the sunlight.

"That would make sense. I'm sorry for.."

Cutting her off, hand raised and expression smoothing over with a smirk, he dropped the subject. "It's fine. There is too much going on t for me to expect perfection out of you. However, when it comes to work…well…"

"You were serious?" She blurted out, brows knitting tightly.

"I was and am. You're the legacy of your father's trade and I would hate to see that going to waste because the honor among thieves is only a legend in these modern times. S.T.A.R.S. deals with all sorts of disturbing groups who seek to wreck the peace of Raccoon City and the small townships around the mountain range." His eyes kept to the row of houses across from the RPD.

"Oddly enough, I was working on my criminal justice degree before all of this happened." She had to laugh at the thought.

"Let's see if your credits transfer. You can finish up what you need and then possibly join unless you change your mind." Gray and blue eyes peering over at her, his tone turned serious. "I want you to be part of us, instead of having to hunt you down one day for crimes caused by the very hands that could be saving lives."

Jill was left speechless, and the threat held within spoke volumes to her. _'Isn't a threat… He's being honest. Don't exactly have a set of skills from schooling that would allow me to do more than work in a diner, sign up for the military, or practice five-fingered discounts until I finish my degree. Still…do I really want this? Forensics was where I was hoping to go.'_

"I won't lie, there is quite a bit of danger that we run into. However, red tape is to a minimum and you're not waiting for a warrant to reach a judge in order to search a building for guilty parties. Most of that is handled long before boots are on the ground. If you decide that you don't like Raccoon City, I can easily help you pick up and join another branch of S.T.A.R.S. anywhere in the United States."

"I..No! I wouldn't want to leave Raccoon City. Dad is serving his sentence here…"

"Understandable. Well, should I consider this confirmation that you will take the offer when the time is right?"

Nodding, she smiled and peered out the window at a couple cops making their way across the parking lot. It all felt too good to be true. Same with him…frankly. These thoughts consumed her as they left the RPD, only nods and small phrase answers given to what he spoke to her about. It was mostly about her getting settled in before summer, degree finished before the fall, then it would be off to the police academy for eight weeks. After that, training with him would begin and it was during that time she would learn everything of value when it came to being a member of S.T.A.R.S.

Either way, she felt more secure than ever before. "Thank you, Albert."

"Mm, of course. Though once you begin working in S.T.A.R.S. I would hope you intend to move out. People talk. You and I know nothing is going on, but the vast majority love gossip."

'_Nothing is going on…'_

'_Nothing at all is going on…'_

"Agreed. Anything else I should be aware of?" She asked.

"Not to my knowledge, aside from not picking the lock on my front door anymore. I'll have a key made for you."

Giving him a look of 'Who, me?' the woman was blessed with a sour look from Wesker. "Fine." She said, defeated, twirling a stand of hair around one of her fingers, noticing they had arrived back at his home.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 5: Feuds**_

_Alright then, this is where the story is going to take drastic changes from the original take that I posted almost a year ago. Like I said I'm predicting about 50 chapters to this story in full. Enjoy!_

"Your move." Albert answered, taking a sip from his glass of bourbon while collecting an ivory colored pawn from the board.

"You're killing my little army!" Jill huffed, moving her knight. "Bye bye, bishop." Her wine glass had remained full for most of the evening. Annette's gift of a bottle didn't seem to go over too well with Jill either.

"You wanted to play. I was set to watch something mind numbing for a few hours." The blonde snickered softly as his queen knocked the knight out of commission. "Check."

"But we just started!" Miss Valentine quickly began examining the board. "Where?"

"Here, look at your king." Bourbon polished off, the empty glass was rested on the table. "Set it up again, I'm going to make sure I didn't burn dinner."

Sitting back in the cozy chair, Jill's expression radiated being torn between laughter and flipping the board. She settled for sipping on wine instead. "Dad taught me to play when I was seven, I didn't think I'd be beaten in eight moves."

"It happens. Perhaps I'm just lucky."

"There's a difference between luck and skill. You're clearly hustling the board."

"Hustling chess?" He asked from the kitchen, the sound of a cabinet door being shut clapped against the air.

"It's what is to sophisticated men as pool is to the drunk."

"Charming."

Laughing to his slightly bitter reply, she began to explore the living room. Paintings greeted her with earthy colors that matched along the bookcases. Her fingers strolled lazily over the several volumes of books that lined the case behind the couch. 'The Tempest' caught her eye, though Jill didn't bother to pull the aged bit of literature from its place. Only pausing, she pondered over the story.

"We are what dreams are made upon…" A voice reached out to her in the dimly lit room.

Turning, her blue eyes flashed wide. Startled as always by her quieter companion, it didn't stop her from exerting a smile to Albert. "The clouds methought would open and show riches ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cried to dream again."

"Act three."

"I've read it a million times. Sounds like you have too." She muttered softly, the pads of her fingers favoring the gold lettering of the book before her hand dropped. "It seems at times that the story isn't entirely wrong."

One blonde brow rising higher than the other, he gazed at her through curious irises.

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here." Turning to face him completely, her bruised eye was no longer shadowed.

Inside, he agreed to that notion.

Outside, he appeared as to think nothing of the statement.

Hours passed by, bourbon bottle and wine bottle both empty and they were finally sitting on the couch. He found comfort in whatever was most sedative to the brain on television while she scoured the pages of a beauty magazine that had been impossible to convince her to leave behind at the grocery store earlier.

All Albert knew was that he could smell the overpriced perfume samples on the pages. Overpriced perfume usually dabbed along the neck and wrists. His silver blued hues shifted to view her briefly. She was too busy reading.

'_Probably some article about how to please a man and get his credit card. Those magazines are fucking evil.' _He thought, absently clicking to another station. Rap music.

Click.

"BUY THIS!"

Click.

"This will take off ten pounds in a week!"

Click.

"Channel surfing?" She had taken notice apparently.

"Fifty stations, nothing on." He finally turned to the news, dropping the remote.

Brows knit, she shifted her feet uncomfortably on the cushioning. Toes curled, she reached out to relieve some unknown cramp. To her surprise, his nearest hand gently pushed hers aside. Appendage in tow, the foot soon was cradled between two palms. Eyes met, she smiled faintly. He didn't return the facial gesture, gray eyes locked onto her. Hesitation, then his hand dropped her foot in favor of rolling up to rest against her smooth neck.

'_You can't have her…'_

Eyes softening briefly, the blonde leaned in.

'_And that's why you crave her…'_

Lips meeting, the exchange was brief and ended almost like waking from a dream. Hand and body retracted back onto the couch and away from her. A hand shadowing along his face, he sighed deeply.

"Don't tell Annette." He grumbled.

She laughed.

'_Nothing is going on…'_

'_Nothing at all…'_

The constant tapping of Jill's fingers against the table finally caused Annette to reach across and gently rest her palm over the younger woman's. "Relax, girl. You're starting to make me jittery." The small coffee shop the two agreed to meet at was busy as ever. Aside from the chatter of patrons, there were the birds singing in the squatting trees that dotted along the gated outdoors portion of the shop. It had been two weeks since Jill arrived in the city. Bruises were healed well enough that she felt it safe to be in public.

"Sorry…" Jill offered, retracting the hand to her lap. "I'm just not used to being out of the house without six feet of angry Aryan on my heels." The cooling cup of coffee was plucked up and a sip taken by Valentine. Though she wouldn't openly admit it, nothing else made her feel safer.

Annette chuckled at the thought. "I know the feeling, though it's usually me scaring anyone that bothers Will. He always says I have a banshee scream when severely upset."

"Not a bad thing." The cropped haired brunette said absently while shifting the cup of coffee around with one digit. The cookie on the saucer nearby was forgotten.

"No, it's not. How was the trip to the RPD? Were you as disgusted by Chief Irons as I was originally?"

"I…didn't meet him. Met most of S.T.A.R.S. but that was it. Went back to the house and spent the evening playing chess."

Annette wrinkled her nose at that remark. "You…and he played chess? Don't tell me I need to dump you both off at a nursing home."

A broad grin found Jill's lips at the remark. "No, there was nothing on TV and we just talked about Shakespeare and played chess. He's a poor sport after I figured out his strategy and began to beat him."

That caused the Birkin woman to snort. "Well, now I know his weakness. Chess…" She flashed a pearly grin before taking a drink of her coffee. "I do have to say it is nice to see that Albert isn't roaming bars or calling me at five in the morning because he's too drunk to drive."

"He seemed different at the police station, almost a completely different person in the presence of people there." Jill finally remembered the cookie, breaking off a corner of it to eat. "Very arrogant and cold."

"Well, he doesn't exactly find much common ground with those people. As I've said a million times, I've known Albert for _years._ It's hard to earn his trust and he rarely comes out of his mental igloo." Annette's expression seemed torn. "He's like a big brother to me. A drunken idiot big brother who buries his skeletons every time he wakes up to face the day."

"I see…" Miss Valentine found her eyes wandering about to the street nearby.

"I'm just glad to see that you are safe. I haven't made many friends in years." Annette said happily, reaching into her purse for a cigarette. Lighting up, a plume of white left her lips. "Always great to have a girlfriend that can break into my car if I lock my keys in it."

Jill laughed. For the first time in what felt like forever, she genuinely laughed.

Annette's station wagon, which was dubbed by the Birkin woman as the 'shaggin' wagon', crept up the driveway of Albert's home. Two cars parked, though neither paid much attention to that fact until Jill tried her key in the lock.

"Deadbolt is engaged." Jill muttered after turning the knob a few times. Odd, he never locked the house while she was out.

Annette, having lit up another cigarette, exhaled a plume of smoke. "Well… I guess that's that. My place? I'm sure I have wine and we can watch 'Stealing Beauty'. Have you seen that movie? I never was much for British films until I saw it." Turning and strolling down the driveway back to her car, it was only once she was at the driver's door did she notice Jill hadn't followed.

'_Shit.' _"Jill?"

No response. The brunette was just staring at the door.

"Jill Valentine!" Annette yelled, reaching through the rolled down window to honk the horn. Annette didn't give a flying fuck if she interrupted Albert. Her goal was to get Jill away before a scene broke out. Still, half the neighborhood's population of dogs began barking. "I don't want to end up on COPS again! Last time was when I beat a bouncer that grabbed Will by his collar."

Valentine gave a bit of a jump, brought back to reality by the sound of the horn. Hand off the knob, she stalked down the driveway. Hood drug up on the RPD sweater she wore, her face was hard to read.

"Fuck…" Annette groaned, seating herself in the driver's seat. Engine cranked, her eyes shifted to Jill's expression. Whatever storm had been swirling in Jill's mind, it seemed to have calmed. "It's nothing new." The blonde woman grumbled and threw the car into reverse.

Once on the highway, Jill finally spoke.

"Nothing was going on."

"Sure." Annette allowed the girl to convince herself of that. "Nothing at all." A fake but bright smile on the scientist's face held its position until they made it to the first light. "You're coming to stay with me. You do not need to be exposed to _**that**_ while dealing with everything else."

No objection from the passenger's seat.

Jiggling the key in the lock, Annette finally got the old oak door to finally open. "Need to get that changed out." She was quick to drop her purse and keys on the nearest coffee table.

Jill stepped in shortly after, welcomed by the smell of cinnamon and apples. The Birkin house was not lavish, but it was cozy. Old house, new carpets and drapes, antiques shelved carefully. The Valentine girl could only imagine the humorous arguments held between the couple during such a task of turning a house into a home. They probably made movies like 'The Money Pit' look stale in comedy. Striding after Annette, she found herself standing in the kitchen. Coffee dominated in scent here, fresh and still brewing.

"Will?" Annette called up to the stairs near the dining area. Sighing happily, the blonde woman quickly retreated to a cabinet to retrieve a couple mugs. "Must be busy."

"I don't want to impose…" Jill began.

"Nonsense, you are always welcome in my house." A steaming cup offered to the brunette, Annette was doing her best not to snap. Not at Jill… that was obvious. "WILL!"

"What?" William soon appeared at the base of the stairs, Sherry in his arms. The sight of him about made both women have a stroke from laughter. Red derby cap, crazy bowtie and a tweed jacket that was two sizes too small, he was a sight. "We were having a tea party!" Sherry was attempting to tug off the rabbit eared headband from atop her head.

Annette almost choked on her coffee, snickering up a storm. "I can see that. Taking your character a little too seriously?"

Will screwed up his face at the question. "Tea parties are serious business."

"Whatever, Mad Hatter. Jill is staying with us for a while."

The male Birkin's expression dropped. Putting Sherry down, he gently patted the girl on the head before letting her run off to play more. "And… why? Not that I have a problem with it."

Annette shrugged mildly. "Stuff came up."

"I see…" The cap was tossed off and onto the kitchen table. "Well, welcome home, Jill. I sleep walk, so please don't hit me if I come shambling by in the hall in the middle of the night."

Annette shook her head. "Call him. Get her things sent here. I'm not dealing with this." The blonde woman sat her cup on the table.

Letting his head sink between his shoulders, Will sighed. "Fine."

Jill finally spoke up. "Nothing was going on.."

Both looked at her, brows knit with concern.

The truth was written all over her face.

Knocking on the door, William jammed his hands back into the pockets of his slacks. Two cars still parked were accompanied by a third, his own. Ringing the door bell, his scruffy features were casual and calm. Nothing about any of this surprised him anymore. Not much of anything did that trick. Two minutes passed, the door unlocked and Birkin raised a brow. "Yikes. Is that a dude?"

The wavy haired blonde piece that had her arms looped around a half dressed Albert Wesker screwed her face into an expression of utter rage before she retreated inside, cursing up a storm at such an insult. Leave it to Will to ruin her pipedream of more time between cool sheets.

"Really Will? Annette had her tantrum and sent you to wreck my day?" Hand dropped from the side of the door, the blonde man lumbered back inside the house. The woman was out the door with a pile of her clothing just as Will was about to step in.

"Jack ass."

"You're gross." Will cackled as he strolled inside. Once in, he locked the door behind him. Keys dropped on the bar, he stood at the edge of the living room. "So… You actually took my advice?"

Wesker was sitting on the couch, head in his hands. A nod given to Will and he sat back.

"Nothing at all going on? Annette is just nuts?"

Another nod.

"You sure? She's a beautiful woman, Al. Pouty lips, blue eyes and legs that go on for days… despite that she's a little short." Brows raised, Will stepped closer. Hands previously jammed in his pockets found their ways to his sides.

"Yes, I'm sure William. I didn't put the girl in a situation that was inappropriate considering that she has real use to our plans. I don't think she finds me appealing in the least." Gazing up at Will, it was written all over his face.

'_What a load of crap, Al.'_

Still, Mr. Birkin liked to play his games. Without warning, the scrawny blonde man was in Albert's lap. Knees against the back of the couch, his hands were on the taller man's chest. So very very close, it would have been some woman's fantasy to see them like this. "How could she not desire you?" Giving the half-naked man a once over with his own baby blue eyes, William grinned. "Those perfect lips and that godly ass… Just makes me want to write my name in saliva all over your tummy." He uttered in a lustful tone.

Eyes narrowing, Albert held his poker face otherwise. Then a hand on the back of his head, William licking his lips about made him want to bolt for a rape whistle. Still he retained his façade.

"Give daddy a kiss." Birkin whispered.

That did it. Blue eyes wide, he gave the scientist a shove right off his lap. "FINE! There was something going on! Get off me!"

On the floor, William was cackling up a storm. "You always cave!" In tears, he managed his way back to his feet with the assistance of an outstretched hand. "Shit, just be honest and I don't have to become so fabulous."

"Fuck off." Albert growled before finally settling back into the couch. "I didn't lay a finger on the girl."

"You don't have to lay a finger on her to be attracted to her. Drives anyone insane thinking about the possibilities while keeping one's hands to themselves." William sat down on the couch next to his long-time friend. "Just don't want to see you make the mistakes you made in the past."

"Cassandra wasn't half the thief Jill is."

"Still, you ended up trying to turn a business transaction into a relationship. The closer you put her to you, the more tempting it will be. Rumors are flying around that you're trying to put her in S.T.A.R.S."

"She'll end up a desk cop or find another job. At least that is what I'm gunning for. Had to feed Irons some garbage so he'd back off. S.T.A.R.S. is the only ammunition I have left in that regard against the tubby fuck." Fingers rubbing against his forehead, a million thoughts were roaming.

"Hmm… Here I was thinking you were planning on something cheesy and romantic like banging her on Irons' desk."

"We'd probably end up with a disease from the desk."

"Good point." Will chuckled. "So, that dude with the long hair that left… You're going to try to keep seeing her?"

"If you didn't scare her off…" Albert's annoyed stare fixed on William's face.

Shrugging, William got to his feet. "Alright, then I think I'll keep my nose out of things."

Smirking, another eye rolling was blessed William's way. "It's not you that has your nose dug five feet deep into this. You're just the messenger."

"Annette just wants to get out of this as badly as we do."

"I know, William."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 6: Stretching out**_

_The bar was one that could only be defined as a 'breeder bar', yet her blonde companion couldn't resist the chance to mingle with the singles on her behalf. Drug in by a hand not holding to a steel grey clutch, the comments of this being a 'bad idea' were drowned out by the blare of music, smoke, and voices. She drank away her thoughts. Drank away the pain of losing Dick. Drank away the agony of losing her home and friends. It wasn't until about three in the morning that he found her. _

"_Taking you home."_

Sunlight crept through the blinds, icy irises greeting them with a squinted stare as Jill awoke. Stirring, she gripped her head with a grim expression. Hang over, what a thing to wake up to.

"How much did I have last night?" She asked the room around her, quickly realizing she was not in her own bed.

"About ten shots." A graveled voice replied from under the grey blankets.

Jill thought she was going to jump out of her skin. Gaze down, she gasped and quickly clutched to the sheets. "I'm naked…" Dumbfounded or still drunk, the observation was put out there.

The blankets turned down, a very tired looking dark brunette in his late twenties sat and then rose up. "Yes, you are. Fabulous body, though you didn't really know how to use it last night." Coffee was poured and offered to the short haired brunette. "You were this close to letting me tattoo you last night too." He said with a grin that stood out boldly against his stubble and tanned features.

Handsome, lean and nearly six feet tall, Jill could only visually eat up every inch of his form. Tattoos lined amid the toned flesh of his arms and pectorals. His face retained youth, despite his years and his nose showed signs of once being broken and mended to the best of a physician's ability.

Eyes wide, she took the offered drink and sipped slowly. The heat nipping at her lips caused her to inadvertently roll her tongue over the pouty appendages. "I did? Wow, I must have been really drunk. Are we still in the city?" Concern was growing fast in her gut.

She had thought that Al-… _'Nothing was going on. He made a mistake and I throttled it like a lovesick child. Innocent mistake that I'm taking too far because I'm grieving and looking for a shoulder to cry on. He didn't come looking for me. Booze just confused me.'_ She would admit to herself that a bit of disappointment was lingering despite that her company looked like he walked out of a romance novel. This man wasn't the Aryan. Aphrodite hissed her displeasure in the back of the woman's psyche.

His green eyes shifted from her to one of the windows. "Uh… yeah, actually we're close to downtown. I work right around the corner from here." Rising once more, he made for the window. "You can see it from here." Wagging a finger to the woman, he smiled a bit wider when she gathered the sheets and joined him.

Jill just stood there with a horrified expression as he pointed out the RPD to her.

"Yeah, that's where I work. I'm a cop… Well, traffic cop right now. Thinking I may make detective if I play my cards right in the next decade." His story would have to wait, as the sound of a cup breaking on the floor was followed by the cropped haired brunette woman frantically was dressing. "Where ya goin', sexy? Thought we could actually go do something today."

Jeans zipped, she shook her head and went to snag her jacket from the floor. He caught her quick with a hand on the leather sleeve. "I have to go!" She practically yelled as she jerked the coat away. Slipping it on, she rushed for the door.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Finding some appropriate underwear slowed the dark haired man from following. Regardless, he was down the stairs once they were found. "Stop! Come on, give me a chance."

She did, one floor below him looking up. "What? I don't even know your name!"

He smiled the goofiest little grin she had ever seen. "It's Kevin. Kevin Slade."

Jill just kept walking.

"I know your name is Jill Valentine. I know you're new to Raccoon City and went out with a girlfriend last night. Friend kept saying that you were brooding over some family issues and needed to cut loose." He was skipping stairs to catch up.

"So what?"

"So, you went home with me after we had a blast. Stole traffic cones and left them in all the parking spaces at the RPD. I'm sure that'll be hilarious come Monday."

She stopped again, snorting. "That sounds like me."

"We put it to the man." His boyish grin's warmth could have melted ice caps.

Two seconds and she was heading down another flight of stairs.

"I know you're lonely. I am too. I told you all of this last night but you must have been black out drunk. Just came to Raccoon City a month ago from Chicago."

Didn't stop her, though his hand on the door leading outside certainly did. "Are you kidding me?" She barked.

"No, I'm not. I like you. You're rebellious but not the kind that ends up in jail over it."

"Well, that's fabulous. Can I go?"

His expression dropped and so did his hand. "Yeah, you can go."

Jill stared up at him, her expression cracking as much as his ego had been by her rush to go. She couldn't keep herself preoccupied with thoughts of Albert. He may have saved her life but that was it. It had been done due to his friendship with her father, she knew that much. The kiss was a mistake and despite her youth, she knew better. He would never want her in reality, they were two moons of Jupiter: as unalike as any could have ever imagined. "Look, let me give you my number. I do need to get home so nobody thinks I died."

Kevin snorted a bit. "I'm not desperate."

Her nose wrinkled at that. "If you don't want it…"

"No! I didn't say that, but not out of charity."

"It's not charity." Her deadpan expression destroyed that theory. "If we had that much fun, I could go for another round of disorderly conduct…. While not being blackout drunk."

"How about tonight, then?" Kevin winked slyly at her.

Jill's face finally began to crack her usual smile.

Albert stared blankly from across the table at William. His mood was not the warmest this evening. "Where is she, Will?"

"Dunno. She and Annette went out last night. When Annette came home, she attacked me in bed and said nothing about it."

"I don't need the details of your sex life." The blonde growled in icy tones.

To that, William threw up his hands. "She's an adult, Nanny Patrol! Annette will be up soon. We'll find out then. In the meantime… What's our outlook on Dick ending up in a cellblock where we can 'visit'?"

"Not very good if Ms. Valentine cannot be found as her possible testimony could turn the dice in our favor and lower the charges against her father," he sighed deeply. Sunglasses dropped on the table, a hand worked at the skin of his temple. "Give Spencer a call when you have the chance. Tell him that we need Dick on hand in case that new privately funded hospital doesn't hop on board with Umbrella."

William raised a brow. "Why?"

"It's very simple, Will. Umbrella has a monopoly on medical care in Raccoon City. If you don't go to Umbrella, you may as well start digging your own grave. A competing hospital would be expected. This is America and competition keeps prices low. However, in the case of an outbreak in Raccoon City it is the hospitals where the ill and dying end up. Records of blood work and the like are stored there and sent out to the CDC. A private hospital has no need to report its patients to the board of Umbrella Corporation if they don't _work _for them before contacting the CDC."

"I know all of that. Why are you worried about it?" Will seemed a bit shocked at the mentioning of it.

"I'm not. Spencer, however, is for good reason. Sometimes the pawn wears a king's crown, William. May as well make use of it."

"But how would Dick be of any use to us in getting rid of competition?"

"Dirty laundry on the front page could be one way. Public opinion turns away, the hospital goes bankrupt and Spencer buys the building for Umbrella." A pause, his face seemed serious. "Or...infect him with something very nasty and let it go wild in a hospital where they cannot handle weaponized small pox or Ebola. Papers speak of inmates being treated at this hospital ending up infected and the place goes under." He looked to Birkin, sighing. "What do you think?"

"You sound like Spencer…" William uttered in a soft tone.

Albert had no reply to that.

Her key sliding into the lock was met by the door opening wide. Pacific met the Atlantic in a very even gaze. "Was wondering when you would show up." Wesker's frosted tones sent a chill down the brunette woman's spine. He shut the door behind him, sunglasses slipped from their perch. His attire of mostly black aside from the red wine scar that wrapped about his neck seemed fitting of his mood and the weather. Even his cologne smelled crisp with cold. His eyes did wander over the jeans, t-shirt and brown leather jacket she wore. A far cry from the women that normally were in his presence, he couldn't help but find her normal to be abnormal. "Would it be too much to ask that you inform me of your whereabouts?"

"Inform you?!" Rage laced her mouth as brutally as fire sears through paper. "And who are you to-?!"

He cut her off with a raised gloved palm. "Enough, Jill. I know you're going through quite a bit but I need you to keep your head fixed between your shoulders."

Despite her seething, and despite the desire to let him have the cussing of a lifetime, she submitted. He had done more for her than most and for that, she felt compelled to show some gratitude. "As you say, Mr. Wesker." Hands jammed into jeans, she shifted her stare elsewhere.

Hand dropped, he offered her a hint of a smirk. "Good. Now, I need to see you first thing in the morning for the hearing against your father's employers. Wear something presentable, will you?" Albert strolled past, his shoulder bumping into hers in the process. His steamed breath rich in mint caught her by surprise.

Anger rising, she glared back at his departing. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to beg him not to go. Later she would blame her youth once again for feeling so much without knowing a damn thing, but for now she was locked out of Heaven and the urge to bang on the gates was very tempting. Even if her case was the arrow of a winged child run astray.

"Doesn't matter…" She muttered under her breath. "Nothing was happening." Door wretched open, she met the gaze of Will and Annette. She would continue to bury the feelings that tried to grow until they choked from no air. It began with the smile she gave the two. "Hope you two weren't worried!"

They tried to smile. Really, they did.

Jill Valentine wasn't afraid of needles, but she wasn't ready for a tattoo. Seated in a somewhat uncomfortable chair, she idly browsed an issue of 'Heavy Metal' while Kevin was getting the finishing touches to a piece on his forearm done. The buzz of the shop went unnoticed as she tried to keep herself entertained. _'No luck.' _ Magazine sat to the side, her stare went to the window.

"Bored, babe? We'll be done in an hour." Kevin didn't seem too worried about his companion's level of entertainment as he went back to talking to the busty red-head tattooing him.

"Right. I'm going to step outside for a smoke." She was gone in a flash. The night air greeted her with its crisp cold. Fumbling with her cigarettes, the sound of a woman's laughter caught her attention. Eyes up, she viewed a couple crossing the street. The woman she didn't recognize, but the man…

"Chris?" She smiled as the brunette man suddenly turned at the mentioning of his name.

"Huh? Oh, hey… Jane right?"

"It's Jill." The short haired woman offered a wave as Redfield and his female companion approached. "Out for the evening?"

"Uh, yeah… Taking Monica to J's for a bit. Didn't expect to see you again, how have you been doing living with..?"

"I moved."

"Ah, I see." He replied, a smile gracing his stubbled features.

"I'm cold." The woman who must have been Monica said between chattering teeth. Chris's arm and laughter offered refuge from the cold.

"We'd best get going. Was good to see you, Jill."

She nodded, lighting up her cigarette and inhaling. In mere moments, they were gone and the only company for Jill to have was the cold. It was only when she swore the tips of her fingers were threatening to fall off did she retreat back indoors to Kevin and the ink.

Already donning his leather jacket, the taller brunette man gave the woman his usual grin. "I thought that wouldn't last so long."

"It's okay," she offered. Fingers lacing in his, Jill smiled in return. "You want to go to J's?"

Kevin quirked a brow at her, fumbling for his wallet to pay the busty red-head artist for finishing his ink. "We can… I didn't think you knew much about the city yet."

A gentle shrug offered, Jill leaned a hip against the reception desk while change was offered up to her male companion. "I've… heard of it. Never went…"

The messy brunette haired man chuckled softly. "Not trying to interrogate you, sexy. We'll go." Wallet stowed away, he pecked a kiss against her lips before leading her out of the shop.

J's bar was your typical hole in the wall that took off due to bankruptcy from the competition. A lone neon sign indicated that Jill and Kevin had arrived at the correct place. Sounds of music and fellowship were muted until that wooden door was swung open. Immediately, cigarette smoke and seven types of cologne caught her sense of smell while music and loud conversation met her ears.

"I'll go get us drinks." Kevin shouted to her, giving her shoulder a squeeze before disappearing into the crowd.

Jill could only nod to him before letting her stare fall on the packed dive bar. Standing by the door, it didn't take her too long to recognize Chris Redfield in the crowd along with a few other members of S.T.A.R.S. Just as she was thinking about approaching, her gaze and the gaze of Forest Speyer met. A devilish grin on his part and the long haired man waved her over to them.

"Look who it is kids!" Forest said as Jill approached. "Uncle Wesker know you snuck out of the house to come hang out with the bad kids?" Everyone burst into laughter at the question, Jill included. "I'm kidding, welcome to J's, girly!" He'd already had a few, from the looks of it.

"Thank you… Umm…" She hunted for a name and came up with none.

Chris came to her rescue, shifting closer and pointing everyone out. "Forest Speyer, Joseph…"

Joseph gave a wave. "Hey there, I'm Joseph Frost. Alpha team's token bald man."

"Yeah, until you finally let it grow out and we see that you're a ginger, Joseph." Forest retorted, tongue stuck out before the wild man took a slurp from his beer.

Chris gave a roll of his dark eyes. "Brad's coming back now… He's Alpha Team's pilot."

Brad Vickers finally found his way back to the group, sporting his yellow jacket. Forest gave the man a bonk upside the head. "Hey! Say 'Hi' to Jill, Vickers." A shy nod and the man was staring up at the stage again. To this, Forest snorted. "He's got a thing for the lead singer of 'Criminal Intent'. I think he'll finally get the nerve up to do more than just wheeze when she tries to talk to him."

"Shut up, Forest! If you knew anything about women, you'd know that I respect Joan."

"Okay, that made no sense. You keep trucking, Brad." The long haired brunette man replied with a snort. "Can I get you a beer, Jill?"

Kevin appeared from the crowd, slipping an arm around Jill. "Hey babe…" His eyes shifted up, then widened. "We're partying with S.T.A.R.S.? You are bad."

The group began cracking up once again. "You didn't know that you're hanging on our last recruit?" Forest couldn't help snickering up a storm.

The brunette traffic cop paled immediately, peering down at Jill "No shit? Well… I…"

Jill did her best not to smile, pride swelling as she took a sip from the bottle of Budweiser he'd handed to her.

"Oh look, Richard is on stage. RICHARD! YOU SUCK!" Looking to the group, Forest's expression went deadpan. "I need another beer. Be back." With that, he was gone to the bar.

"You'll have to excuse Forest," Brad said meekly, taking a seat at the table close to Jill and Kevin so he could look at the stage while conversing. "He's a bit of a dick but I don't think I would want anyone else to have my back in a bad situation other than him. Doesn't act his age, unfortunately."

Jill nodded, patting Brad on the shoulder. "I've met many of those, Brad. I think guys like you tend to do better in the long run."

Red devouring Vickers' face, he smiled and raised his glass to her. Shortly after, Forest returned with two beers.

The band finished setting up the sound system and a young woman appeared on stage in a black jacket and French braid. "Good evening J's Bar! Thank you for being here!" The woman was greeted by cheers and a bit of clapping.

"You suck, Joan!" Forest taunted, grinning wildly.

"What was that, Forest?" The girl on the mic said, one hand coming to rest on her hip.

"I mean, I love you Joan. You rock like Led Zeppelin, only you're a chick."

"That'd better be what you said. Anyway, tonight is karaoke night. As usual, I pray the drunkest out of all of you hit the stage and completely embarrass yourselves while my dad films it." The woman said with a grin, pointing to 'J' in the back who had a video camera set up. "Drink specials are on the chalk board, and I hope you all have a good time at our little hole in the wall."

It only took a few seconds for Forest to cook something up, grabbing Chris and heading for the men's room with two empty beer bottles in his possession. Jill could only shake her head, beginning to make idle conversation with Chris' date and Kevin who couldn't stop straying his stare to her cleavage. This wouldn't last long in Jill's mind. Brad and Joseph joined in the little chat, as well. Kenneth Sullivan made an appearance, shaking hands and kindly greeting Jill with a chivalrous kiss to the back of her hand… until someone told him she was to join S.T.A.R.S.

"Hah! Better be careful, Daddy Bear. S.T.A.R.S. is expanding faster than any of us can keep track." Jospeh said.

"I guess so." Kenneth said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. Dressed in deep red, the spiced scent of his cologne drowned the stink of the smoke all around. "So, where are the two stooges at?" He asked absently, adjusting the very nice watch on his wrist.

"Went to the bathroom to make out, probably." Brad said in a somewhat bitter tone. To this, Chris' date threw him a deathly glare.

"If looks could kill, Brad… You'd be a dead man." Joseph snickered.

A few people went up to the stage to sing, but it was when Forest and Chris rolled out that everyone began to die laughing. Redfield had what appeared to be a mop top parted to look like a wig on his head, and two beer bottles stuffed in his shirt to look like the biggest misinterpretation of breasts that Jill had ever seen. Once on stage, they began to sing "I've got you babe", which didn't help the situation for Chris' date. She seemed like a rather severe woman, not quite on the same level as Christopher.

"Babe! I got you babe! Dude, read the lyrics and quit playing with your hooters!" Forest said in dismay.

"Checking for lumps. Can't be too careful." Chris said with a laugh.

With that said Forest tried to help only to have one of the bottles fall out and smash on the floor. "Aw! Look what you did!" Redfield said with a sigh, leaving the stage. Forest followed after, their usual boyish behavior resuming before Joan presented them with a broom and dust pan. Cleaning up, the taunting and childishness didn't cease.

"How did those two graduate?" Joseph finally asked, wiping a tear from his eye from laughing.

"Teacher passed them just to get them out of her hair, probably." Brad uttered, smiling as Miss Piper approached. "Hi, Joan."

"Hey Brad, I'm surprised you came out tonight. I thought you were flying."

"I flew today in the mountains." He replied, nodding. Everyone else in the group just stared, completely amazed by Vickers' inability to say more than a short sentence to this woman. Kevin couldn't help but snort, tugging his leather jacket off.

Nodding in return, she shrugged a little. "That sounds like fun." Awkward silence ensued and she finally had to depart. "Well, I'll see you around." Striding off, she looked a little disappointed.

Forest's laughter alerted the group to the return of the dynamic duo. "'Oh Brad, I want you. Why can't you say anything that would let me know that you wanted me too?'" Speyer's impression of a female voice only made the group laugh more.

"Brad, you just need to get a deeper voice around her. Nothing' gets a lady going like a deep voice. Could tell her that you spent half the day in the john and her panties would still fly off." Ken said with a chuckle.

"Brad's balls haven't dropped. Stop taunting him, Ken." Joseph scoffed, finishing his beer. "You'll get there one day, Vickers."

The taunting was too much apparently, as Brad walked off to the bathroom.

"You're terrible." Jill scolded with a snicker.

"We love Brad, but he needs a thicker skin." Forest said, paying one of the waitresses for another drink. "You good?" His question directed to Jill and Kevin.

Beer finished, she shook the bottle. "Empty." Kevin made the same gesture.

"Hah, alright." Paying the waitress for the other drinks, the long haired man took long look at the rest of the team. "Am I the only one buying her and her boytoy drinks? She's our rookie!"

"Hey, she's not in yet and the last rookie we had was Brad and we all spent too much money to get him drunk and draw on his face in the bathroom." Ken said, taking a swig from his glass of whiskey. To that remark, Joseph snickered.

"We're not looking to get Jill tanked, Daddy Bear. Chris, buy the next round!" Forest said, giving his partner in crime a nudge.

"Huh? Yeah, sure." Redfield was too busy trying to keep this date hanging around to pay attention, apparently.

Looking at Jill, Forest pointed to Chris and shook his head with a comical expression. The only reply from Miss Valentine was a simple shrug. A few hours later, some more members of the team had shown up. Kevin, Ed, Enrico and everyone's favorite 'DD' – Rebecca Chambers.

"Ugh, you all smell of booze." The girl said with a sigh, giving a few members a hug before introducing herself to Jill. The two clicked, happily chatting while their teammates caught up on whatever else was going on in the world. Eventually, Ed joined their little conversation moreso for Kevin's sake of not being arm candy, and it was clear he was the apple of Rebecca's eye.

The night drawing to a close, Joan yelled for 'Last Call', receiving quite a bit of booing from the patrons. "I don't care! You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!" She said with a smirk, wiping down the bar top.

"You suck, Joan. Your bass player sucks too."

"Forest, I hate you!" She yelled, tossing an empty bottle into the trash can behind the bar. "If you weren't halfway done paying for my four year old's college in alcohol bought, I'd have thrown your ass in the street by now."

"Well, lucky me, eh?" Forest was a card, no doubt in that. A choke hold given, he knew Richard must have finally heard him. "Hey Richard. I didn't know you were here."

"Real funny, Speyer. Where's the rookie to be?" Richard Aiken asked, glancing to the several faces of the group.

Jill gave a wave. "Hi."

A strange look formed on Aiken's face, as though he was trying to recall something. "Have we met before?"

Shaking her head, Jill shrugged. "Maybe, I was drug into S.T.A.R.S. not long ago.."

"No… I'm not on day shift and I heard about that. Huh, I guess you just have one of those faces." Shrugging in return, he smiled. "Anyway, good to meet you."

Nodding, Jill polished off the last of her drink. Chris' promise was kept and another was placed before her. Blue eyes peering at the team, she was glad that the urge to not spend the evening alone had pushed her to attend.

"So, Jill. Dating anyone?" Forest suddenly asked, and this caused everyone else to face palm. Kevin looked livid.

"I.." She began, looking to Kevin. For a pair of cops, he and Forest looked like a scuffle between them would be as rough as any found in a biker bar.

"Don't answer that!" Rebecca said with a sigh, tugging on Forest's nearest ear. "She is our teammate and she's here with a date, ass! Sorry, Jill. Forest doesn't know where the line is drawn."

"He invented the eraser that gets rid of that line." Chris finally said with a snicker, getting up from his seat to follow his date out. The woman offered no goodbye or even acknowledgement to anyone who tried to bid her such.

"Now where are you going?" Forest asked, hands lifted up. No reply as the two left and the man sighed. "Chris and Miss Wrong. When will it ever work for him?"

"Oh stop, Forest. It isn't like Chris treats women like you do.. Otherwise he'd deserve her wanting to leave." Miss Chambers said with a huff, a hand lifting to comb a few short strands behind her pierced left ear.

"True. You are a very wise woman, Rebecca. Thank you for showing me the error in my ways. I will find Jesus and the woman of my dreams now because of you."

A dirty look thrown at the man and she turned back to Jill to chat a bit more until the bar finally closed.

As the entire group stepped outside, more welcoming words were given to Jill by a group of people that she felt would be like family as the years passed. Hugs, handshakes and everyone began to disperse at last to head home.

Kevin sighed softly, arms folding about Jill's waist as he peered down at her through wild green eyes. "S.T.A.R.S. huh? When were you going to let me in on that little secret?"

She smirked, giving him a little kiss. "Eventually," the woman uttered, breaking away and grasping for his hand as the pair began to walk towards his car.

"So, does this mean you want to see me again?" His pearly smile all but made her melt as she looked up to him.

"Possibly, though we should take things slow. Getting to know one another that is."

"Little late for that." Kevin chuckled, unlocking the car.

"I'm meaning on a mental level." Jill said with an eye roll, opening her car door and getting in. Kevin's 'Ooooh' made her laugh, his devilish grin absolutely delicious. Leaning, Jill pressed her lips to his in a gentle show of affection. "Take me home, Kev."

"Yes ma'am.." The car's engine purring into life, they were gone in a matter of moments.

Two in the morning, coffee brewing in the corner on its squatting table, Albert quietly peered down at the testimony that was to be given later that morning. His mercy of not killing the two thugs may have cost him more than he realized. The questions were pouring in now as to why he'd taken such risk, broken so many rules. This would lead them back to Spencer and Umbrella if he didn't play his cards right. A reckless move on his part…

'_She could have died.'_

File dropped on his desk, he took a seat. Staring out through the windows of the RPD, the star littered sky offered no answers to him. Cell phone ringing, he lifted it to inspect the number. Claudia… again. Muting it, he ran a palm over his face.

"Burning the candle at both ends?" A very aged and familiar voice swallowed the silence. Spencer.

Head tipping, Wesker peered over to the older man. "Mister Spencer, what do I owe this visit?"

Door shut, the old man stepped into the room. Finding a chair, he took a seat across from Albert. Every time the two met, Wesker swore Spencer looked a million years older. Despite his age, he was dressed well in a black suit. A single gold ring bearing the emblem of Umbrella glinted in the dim light of the room. "Where is she?"

"Safe." Wesker replied.

"I'm glad you remembered how much I need her alive. Leverage is hard to find at times." The old man reached into his coat for his pack of cigars.

Unreadable in expression, Albert's eyes shifted to the file on his desk. "She'll be here in a few hours to go over her testimony against Arvada."

"That still will not explain away you, Albert. You showed your hand too fast in this game. Arvada is the last of my competition for weapons in Colombia… We should have used more caution."

"She would have been gone before your precious 'Hunk' would have gotten to her… or dead." Silver blued hues stared evenly at Spencer, golden pen rotated between surgeon's fingers absently.

Ozwell's expression radiated a smug air of knowing more than just what he appeared to. Typical. "Beware the apple, Albert." He lit up his cigar with a wooden match. "Either way, you made this mess and you can clean it up. Protect Umbrella… I don't care what means you use to come to that end."

Light brows raised, Wesker peered away. "I will." Defeated, he was still Spencer's errand boy even after all these years.

"Thank you for protecting Dick's daughter. We will need her soon. Pharmatell isn't caving."

"She'll earn her keep. Give me time." The blonde uttered softly.

Not long after, Spencer was gone and Albert was left alone with his thoughts once more.

"Who the fuck is putting traffic cones in my parking lot? WHY ARE ALL OF THE CAR ALARMS GOING OFF?!" Brian Irons screamed from the other side of the aged building.

Albert could only allow himself a little smirk as he leaned back in his chair. He had a good idea of who was the little mongoose that was making mischief in the land of serpents that was Raccoon City.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 7: Lying with Serpents**_

She knocked four times before the door swung open. Two seas greeting one another in stare, the Pacific rolled its fury against its stoned beaches at the sight of a bruised mark upon a pale throat. "Out late again?" The words forked from his mouth in splinters of ice.

"You weren't at the RPD, they said I should look here." Her expression fell flat, following him inside the house. It was much as she remembered it. Clean, beautiful, a place for everything and everything in its place. Purse set on the kitchen table, she felt unease washing over her as he slipped away to the back and into his bedroom. Thoughts swam in her psyche of long fingers slithering between the fingers of a lover. Hands shoved back into the pillows while heated breath gave way. The crisp smells of his-..

"Here" He stepped out into view, light brows rising at her face upon approach. "Have you been out in the sun? Your face is red." Albert slipped past her towards the table without a pause.

Fingers on her face, Jill's eyes widened briefly. "I… No? Maybe…" She followed his lead, taking a seat across from him at the table while he flipped open a manila folder. Nervous fingers tapped their nails against the oak surface. She ceased as Wesker cleared his throat absently, lost in the pages. He seemed to bear no sign of the man who gave her the cold shoulder before, relaxed in posture and movement. Put her on edge more and more as the clock ticked quietly on the wall.

Silver frosted hues lifted to regard her after a moment, sliding the folder and its contents over to her. "This was your statement. These are possible questions that the attorney may ask you when cross examining you. Appropriate responses are listed below each." Gold pen's tip pressed against the paper, he further elaborated. "The attorney that Mr. Spencer has paid to defend your father believes the ones I've written in red are the best answers to give, though I disagree with some. I've noted that on each. He'll be here in a few days to go over all of this with you again."

"Why are you doing this?" She suddenly asked. How badly she wished she could have taken it back as their stares met.

Albert lounged back in his chair, the gold pen clicked off. A hand running through his slicked blonde strands, he sighed. "What do you mean?"

'_Great…'_

"I mean… Why are you helping my father? I know that you both worked for Mr. Spencer for a time… It was the only time my father had a normal job."

Light brows popped, he viewed her passively. "Normal?"

"Well you know, don't you? Dad worked as an accounting advisor. Was what he went to college for… I don't know why he quit working for Mr. Spencer. Was a normal life in Denver when he worked for Umbrella."

To this, Albert's gaze narrowed. "I'm aware of what his job was. I wouldn't call crunching numbers all day and night normal. Mad man's work. Tell me, Jill… What did your father say I did for Umbrella?"

"He said you worked in the information part of Umbrella. Computers and manned security for hospitals and the laboratories that made vaccines for the poor people who couldn't afford to go to a doctor."

'_Oh that's rich. Dick can write better lies than I can.'_

Regardless, he played along. "That is correct… Now then, my friendship with your father is why I am doing this. He uncovered quite a few bits of fraud that were happening and probably saved the Denver branch of Umbrella from going bankrupt. He saved my job. I never thought I could repay him for that. Mr. Spencer feels the same way, hence why he's picking up the check for the lawyer. Umbrella doesn't throw its friends away, no matter how many years separate employment from the present day." Wasn't completely a lie… Dick had run off every bit of competition to Spencer in Denver through bribes and planting evidence. A one man mayhem squad, leaving the rest of Umbrella to focus its claws to the world that lay open for the taking.

"What your father has done, I don't think any man could claim themselves better. He did it all to try to save your mother and ensure you had a future." That wasn't a lie either. Patty Valentine had put up a good fight against breast cancer, but lost when Jill was no older than fourteen. He was starting to realize the effects of losing her. Dick probably hadn't been around much, and her development into a woman was stunted at best. A confused girl trapped in a woman's body. Home life was more than likely trashed with Patty's death. Therapy was probably not something Dick put too much thought into investing in, or putting a female role model in the girl's life… Mrs. Valentine had been the brains of that dysfunctional family, no doubt.

'_Almost breaks your heart, doesn't it?'_

'_Not really.'_

She bought it hook, line, and sinker. Nodding, the woman absently brushed aside some brunette strands and set her focus on the papers. "Fair enough." Long fingers with lime green painted nails slipped over the pages as she flipped through and scanned the documents. "Okay, I can go over these…"

"Good, I'd hoped you would be able to find time to do that much. How about finishing your degree?" His stare shifted to the candle residing on the island of the kitchen. Red and spiced with the scent of cinnamon, its flame danced happily in the quiet home.

"Annette helped me get that figured out. William is giving me a lift there for my classes since he teaches one in the morning. Kevin picks me up on his way home from his shift."

Albert's stare twisted back to her. "Officer Slade. Good. So you're accounted for every step of the way." The words spoke of contentment, but the tone in his voiced aired many other things. Jealousy was slipping free, though as with many things about Albert Wesker, it was hard to see the difference between that and annoyance. Slade was bright, but he was still white trash even with that badge. Seemed that's what Jill ran with, almost as if that's all she knew. A bad boy that picked up drunken women and probably abused them later.

'_You don't care, do you?'_

It was enough to make Jill snap, as if everything he did and say didn't already anger her. "Do I look like I need a nanny every moment of every day?"

"That hickey says 'Yes'." A sly smirk slithered its way over his lips. "Aren't you a little old for these antics? Running off and fucking some random man, I mean."

"Like you have room to say a word. I was living here and you brought another woman in while I went out for coffee with Annette! You probably would have told me if she was someone important in your life!" She shut the folder with a glare.

"And pray tell, why does that make you so angry? You've been a guest in my home which means my rules apply." Heat bathed the blonde man's voice.

"Some rules. You could have warned me at least. Common curtsey! Leave your sunglasses on the doorknob or something. You wear them enough."

"Is this a college dorm? Do you know how silly you sound right now?" His patience was wearing very thin very fast.

"Could have put her five-dollar bra on it then! Or did you need her to keep that on so you could get off?" She knew she was out of line, but really didn't care. The things we say when we are angry. He was pressing every single one of her buttons and there didn't seem to be any way out other than to become more vicious in word than the previous blow delivered.

Yet it would be Albert who would say the unforgiveable. "I should have let that slime ball take you. Waste of my fucking time dealing with a little bitch like you." He regretted it the moment it escaped him, but there it was. She'd found a way under his skin, like so many times before. A shame it wasn't as positive as in the past.

Freezing, settling and then seething, Jill stared at him through wide blue eyes. Red rimming, tears slipped free of those pools of cerulean. The war of words had been won. She was on her feet in a flash, the manila folder tossed in his face. "Maybe you should have." Papers fluttered helplessly to the ground.

His sedated posture alerted to how wrong he knew he was, despite the defiance in his stare at her. _'She's going to walk out that door and you're never going to see her again. All of this will have been for nothing. She'll be found dead somewhere.'_

Like a foretold notion, she did head for the door. The sounds of a woman trying to keep an iron exterior and failing swept through the air.

'_I wonder if it's for Spencer or yourself that you care about that fact. Do you even know?'_

A hand on the doorknob, she gave it a twist and pull only to feel the full force of a hand slam it back shut. Swinging about, back to the door, she glared up at him with that pair of cornflower hued irises. So little space between them with his arm holding the door closed, she could smell his cologne. "What do you think you're doing?"

'_That's a very good question. What am I doing?'_

He never gave chase –ever-. This wasn't part of the plan, but neither was her wild behavior. Neither was the rescue, or that drunken kiss. None of this was part of the plan. Improvising had been in his hand of cards only as a trump card. It wasn't in him to make things up as he went. Unfortunately, she was forcing that. "You infuriate me beyond belief, Jill Valentine. Disappointing and childish, I had higher regards for you than the antics you've pulled."

"The feeling is mutual, Albert Wesker." She met his tone in an equal lathering of ice on the words. Silence hung in the air as they stared one another down. "I wanted you to myself." The only one brave enough to admit anything, she let what lay rusting and gouging at the insides of her ribcage free at last.

They both froze, though his other hand came to rest against the doorframe after a moment. "What did you say?" He almost couldn't believe what she'd blurted out. As if he could take that seriously at all.

Stare shooting straight down, she looked at her shoes in favor of the pools of silver that threatened to tear her apart with their gaze. "Nobody has ever done what you have for me. Nobody has made me feel like I'm not fading into the walls until I met you."

"That was years ago." He remained the iceberg in the sea of emotions that were boiling out of her.

"You saved my life." Biting her lower lip, her head tipped up. Hands brushing away a few tears, Jill's attempts to meet his stare were for naught. Constantly, she was darting her gaze away. "I don't know what else in this world a man could do to cause a girl to fall in love with him, even by sheer coincidence. I really don't." A pause and she began again "Then you kissed me…"

'_All of this is beyond stupid. Care about someone so go sleep with someone else? Retaliation in a woman's mind…'_

'_Isn't that what you did to try to put her behind you?'_

"That was a mistake." He paused, evaluating his response. "There was nothing going on between us." The statement was firm. She wouldn't win. She couldn't be right. Not now, not ever. She held too much value for other reasons. He would have to let her go, despite her words confirming what he already suspected. Despite the things that had already embedded themselves in him.

"That's a lie not even a child would believe." She whispered softly, her tone defeated. She turned a shoulder away from him, trying the door once more. He wouldn't budge. She sighed. "I have to go."

'_Let her go. This won't end well for either of you if she's mad enough to not go somewhere safe because it would mean you can't find her.'_

Jill tried the door once more, finding his hands had retracted. Looking back, he was already slipping away to the kitchen and the mess she'd left there on the floor.

The sound of the door shutting and he sighed, swiping up the papers from the kitchen floor. Sorting the papers and stuffing them back into the folder, he gave it all a toss back onto the table. What a fucking mess this had all become. First, what he had finally settled to be a hormonal outburst the morning after everything had happened. Now, she was acting out worse than a teenager. It wasn't as though he had no sympathy for her. Hell, his parents had sent him away as a child. He knew what it was to be abandoned and alone in this world…perhaps too well.

'_I can be empathetic to her troubles, but I can't tolerate the constant and tiresome behavior.'_

'_Her entire world is gone and wrecked forever. Searching for a shoulder to cry on and finding it in a sleazy cop isn't the worst she could have done.'_

'_No, it isn't. Slade has a clean record aside from speeding tickets and a public intoxication charge.' _Hands on the island in the kitchen, his stare shifted into the den. One palm lifted, he grazed it over his brow. After, he found himself in silence with the glass of brandy he'd abandoned before she had shown up.

'_Do you really want him having her?'_

"The attitude…" Albert shook his head, once again swatting away this phantom and its arguments with logic. He was already exhausted mentally from all of this nonsense.

'_She's trying to appear much tougher and rougher than she actually is. Disappointment hurts and nobody likes to appear to be hurt by anyone.'_

The feeling of being watched overtook and Albert turned about. "What are you still doing here?" His gaze narrowed upon Jill as she stepped into the kitchen, her stride nervous.

"I forgot something." She uttered softly, walking up to him. Stopping short, the aura of him was still as unwelcoming as ever, invisible needles keeping her from taking another step. The questioning expression on his face warranted an answer. "My purse?"

Stare shifting to the table, he pointed it out to her. "Where you left it." Relaxed with back against the island, Albert watched her retrieve the purse from the table. She was so messy. Even fumbling through her purse for something was messy. She began to leave again. "The testimony papers?" He called out and watched her hastily go for them as well before attempting to depart.

The problem with messy people is that messes tend to follow them, and another mess was to bless his floor as she only grabbed the edge of the folder and with one tug back the entire stack went right back on the floor.

"Dammit." She whispered, quickly kneeling and snatching up the papers from the sunlight littered floor. She didn't care if she crumpled them as each was thrown back in the folder. Brunette hair perched behind her ear absently; the contents of her purse gave a spill as well when she leaned too far for one paper. The woman familiar to him seemed to have slipped out from under her rock to breathe again as she quickly picked up change, keys, lipstick and other assortments essential for her day.

Glass of brandy set aside, Albert folded his arms over his chest. Curiosity had gotten the best of him as he watched her. "You always put up a front like that when you feel someone has stabbed you in the back?"

She paused in motion, green painted fingers wrapping around the tube of lipstick that was recovered. "What do you mean?" Her eyes shifted up to him.

"My meaning is acting so foolishly."

The tube of lipstick was tossed in the bag. The purse and folder both sat on the table as she faced him. "There's more than just that."

"Dick?"

She nodded weakly, picking at her nails. "Dad, this new place, the trial… Nothing is the same anymore. I'm terrified for my life ever since I went to stay with Annette and Will. I worry they'll find me and hurt them… and Sherry. I just wanted something to hold onto. A rock while I try to fight the current." Even in her sadness, he found beauty within her. Still an honest woman, no beating around the bush for hours on end until a conclusion was drawn. She knew herself more than she seemed to let on, not many could view themselves in such a manner and diagnose their actions with precision. Half the people in the world hardly knew why they did what they did. Marriages, jobs, along with the much deeper and darker things.

He internally applauded her, seeing as she had come to grasp the real troubles in her life. Glass of brandy picked up, he offered it to her. Once she had taken it into grasp, Albert spoke. "You've found that in Slade, haven't you?"

A long sip taken, Jill shook her head. "He's always gone getting drunk. Any time we've been together he has a hard time tearing his stare from another woman's breasts. No nice dinners, no going to the movies… He's so wrapped up in getting more tattoos."

"Charming, I'm sure Dick will love him."

"More like skin him, to be honest. Dad never approved of the men I ran with."

Albert snickered softly at that, hands coming to rest against the edge that he leaned upon. "May want to let the boy go before things get any more complicated. You're clearly unhappy with the situation and quite aware that it won't work."

She nodded, polishing off the brandy. The glass remained in her hand, arms folding. "I didn't see it lasting."

"Why would you? You were looking for a hard-on and a heartbeat from how it sounds to me."

Jill's stare shifted up to meet his. "Does that make me a bad person?"

Eyes pitching to the ceiling, Albert pondered that question for a moment. "No… It just makes you a man." A little smirk fixed itself to his lips as the sound of her laughter filled the air. Silvery blue hues switched their gaze to her. "Need to grow a beard, change your name and nobody would think anything of what you've done."

Jill's giggles ceased after a moment, a hand lifted to wipe at her eyes. "I'm sorry." She uttered, big blue irises fixed to his face.

"I-.." The cellphone on the island began to ring, Albert's hand shifting over to it. Monica calling and she would have to wait. Fingers pressing the silent button, he stepped towards her. "Forgiven, and I apologize for…this." His hand gesture implied 'everything'.

"Forgiven." A smile finally made its way to her mouth. The empty glass offered back, she pressed her lips into a thin line before speaking. "I should really get going."

Glass in hand, the blonde lofted one brow higher than the other. "Plans this evening?" He halfheartedly believed she would go straight to Slade, despite their conversation. Women rarely made up their minds in a matter of moments and kept their word in the matters of the heart. That was his experience anyway.

'_Bit jaded are we?'_

"Uh… No. Birkins are out of town, I had to catch a cab here. So, I'd best get down to the bus stop before I miss the last shuttle to their neck of the woods. Need to keep studying; my finals are coming up sooner than I want."

The other brow met its mate high. "You do realize I own a car, right?"

"I didn't want to impose. Thought you'd be… busy." She shrugged, fingers raking through her caramel colored locks while her free hand motioned to the phone not far away.

"Do you want to stay there?" He inclined his head a bit. "Plenty of room here, considering that my couch and you are best of pals." That'd been an understatement. Jill had practically been nesting on that sofa the entire time she'd stayed before.

"I thought…" Her words trailed off after a moment. Both knew what was going to come out of her mouth next, but she refrained from speaking on it.

"No." Deadpan tone and he stepped away to the dry bar situated along a small section of wall that dropped off to the book shelves. "Some of your clothes are still here. Hadn't had a chance to get them sent to your new residence." Another glass of brandy poured and Albert peered back to her. "Interested? I don't think spending an entire weekend alone paranoid will do you any good."

She nodded, stepping out of her sneakers and onto the carpet.

A few hours passed before the fine crystal jug was empty of its brandy and hunger set in, a suggestion of Chinese food and an old movie seemed better than cooking and possibly setting the house on fire. Ironically, Jill selected 'Robin Hood' from the vast collection of old films Wesker had accumulated over the years.

'_Figures.'_

"Errol Flynn? Really?" Albert's mocking tone filled the air between them, now more appropriately dressed in sweats and a t-shirt bearing the logo of S.T.A.R.S.. Popping open the takeout box, chopsticks were quickly dipped in for the chow mein noodles that he'd ordered. "If you wanted to watch someone beat a cat in a burlap sack, we can go downtown." Someone obviously was not a fan of Mr. Flynn and his work.

Jill gave a roll of her cornflower eyes, remote in hand as she skipped the opening credits. "And who would you have us watch, Mister Wesker?"

"John Wayne, of course, Jill." He spoke as though it were common knowledge chiseled in stone or so part of who he was that she should have known. "I haven't watched 'True Grit' in about ten years."

"I liked 'The Quiet Man' better. No gunfights that last over ten minutes." Her own box of takeout opened; she plucked up a mouthful of rice with chopsticks.

"Oh yes, the fact that John's character beat a man to death with his fists is SO much better." His eyes met hers, a chuckle escaping him. "Don't look at me like I've destroyed your ego."

"You're being a devil's advocate. Why do you have his movies if you dislike him so much?" Tugging at the fabric of her grey pajama pants, Jill settled her back against the couch.

"I don't recall when and where I bought Flynn's pictures. Was probably drunk and thought it was a good idea in case I ever had company that wished to watch them."

"Yet you complain…" She replied before another mouthful of rice was devoured.

"I guess I didn't think that far ahead." Albert set aside the empty box of takeout in favor of another that contained egg rolls. "You know what that's like." Another look from her that could have made a corpse run for its life and he settled on not teasing her so harshly. "We've all made that mistake, Jill. Scorned and just trying to get the venom out, that is."

That brought on her curiosity. "Who was yours?" Empty box and chop sticks were sat on the coffee table. Knees drawn to her chest, slender and pale arms wrapped about at the shins. Chin on the knees, she viewed Albert with a little grin.

A bite taken from the egg roll, Wesker's gaze fell to her. "Her name was Elizabeth Muller. Had bright red hair, I'm sure you already grasp that she had a temper from Hell itself." Her nod alerted him to as much anyway. "I tried to make it a relationship, but it was… all wrong. We weren't made for one another. I'm a Capricorn and she…" He paused, silver blue stare slipping to the ceiling as he seemed to attempt to recall. "…She was a bitch." Finishing off the eggroll, a smile adorned his lips at the laughter of the woman at his side. "Speaking of which, just to sound horribly cliché while I've been drinking and eating cheap Chinese food that is horrible for my heath, what are you?"

"Don't you mean: 'What's your sign'?" Jill asked, picking up a forgotten glass of wine that rested on a coaster. "Taurus, though I don't feel as powerful as a bull."

Lying back, one leg propped while the other hung off the side of the couch, the blonde laid back against the two pillows that rested along the arm. "Taurus women don't normally have the bull factor to them, unless upset. They like to create Heaven where they go, usually found helping the poor and discarded of society. Believe deeply in a utopia to the point it's almost madness."

Jill raised a brow, mimicking his stance at the other end of the couch. Viewing him from the rim of her glass, she shook her head. Red painted toes curled over and over, the chill of the room a nuisance. "Trying to stroke my ego now? What about yours?"

A deep yawn and Albert peered away. "Capricorn? Well, it's this." He gestured around them. "Old world, old style in the things we have and the clothes we wear at times…Not easily impressed by things. Aloof for the most part, sometimes jaded, wistful, and dejected in our outlook."

"That sounds… not like a way to live. Everyone should be happy."

"That would be nice, cow lady. Unfortunately someone has to keep their head below the clouds."

"Do you actually believe in that stuff? I mean, you can choose to be happy. It's your life." Empty wine glass set back on the table, she begins picking at her nails once more.

"I can choose to be happy?" He paused, another flourish of sarcasm on its way as he set aside the box of egg rolls. "Hold the phone, notify the papers…"

She gave a heavy roll of the eyes. Understanding his perspective was Greek to her at this point. "I'm being serious. People choose to be assholes every day. I would think the same could apply to being happy. Don't you think so?"

"I think you're drunk." He said with a smirk.

Just as she was about to reply, the doorbell rang. As Albert went to answer the door, she poured herself another glass of wine. _'Maybe being friends is better.'_

Front light switched on, Wesker opened the front door to his home. To the man's surprise, Rebecca Chambers stood on the steps. "Captain Wesker, I've been trying to call you for the past hour." Her red rimmed eyes and occasional sniff aired how upset she was.

"My phone is dead, Miss Chambers. You don't need to be crying over that." He replied in cold tones. As his stare drifted to the street, he could clearly see Edward Dewey waiting in the black Dodge truck. "What's going on?" Silver hues back to the woman's face.

"Chief Irons has Bravo Team activated for tonight. A police officer's body and the body of a woman were found out in the park." Rebecca swallowed hard, tears threatening to form. "Was Officer Slade and that new recruit. I'm so sorry Captain. I know you and her were friends." Wiping her nose with the back of her gloved hand, she was a sight. "Another officer was in a hit and run at a checkpoint for DUIs. Chief Irons is going nuts."

The entire time she informed him of everything happening at the RPD, Albert was having trouble just wrapping his brain around how exactly someone could mistake Jill Valentine as a victim. His expression of utter disbelief didn't seem to catch her attention. Poor thing was sobbing by the time she was done speaking. "Rebecca?" His deadpan question was rather soft in volume.

Ceasing with her whimpers, the woman looked up to him. "Yes, Captain?" Doing her best to make herself presentable again, Rebecca wiped at her eyes furiously.

"Get Edward and please come inside." He didn't wait for her reply of 'Yes, Captain' before the door was shut.

"Decapitated?" Long fingers slipped to press against Jill's lips as the two members of S.T.A.R.S. informed their statuesque leader of what had happened. She was left to fight off a panic attack, quickly slipping into the guest bathroom.

Rebecca wasn't in very good shape either, though seemed to be doing better with the knowledge that her newfound friend was alive and well. Wesker's cellphone in her hands, she tried over and over to reach the RPD and Chief Irons.

Wesker spent most of the brief with a hand covering his face while Edward paced back and forth. "I'm in utter shock: One officer dead, an innocent woman missing her head, and another officer in critical condition at the hospital." Hand dropping down to his side, the pads of his fingers gently drummed over the arm of the sofa. "Any leads?"

"They said that it's a son of some drug lord named Arvada, Captain. The guys who snitch for us already have seen him around the southern part of Raccoon City." Rebecca said softly, dialing the RPD once again.

Edward just shook his head. "If we have a cop killer on our hands, every man and woman in blue is going to be after these guys. I don't think they'll last a week."

"Agreed," Wesker chimed in after a moment of silence. "Raccoon City is one of the few cities in this country that actually has enough funding to keep a police force that can handle its population. Small town feel as well: everyone knows everyone." Sighing deeply, he rose to his feet as Rebecca closed up his cellphone on her final attempt and offered it back over to him. "Keep me posted."

Once the two had left, the blonde checked every door and window in the house to ensure they were locked still. A minor sweep of weapons hidden everywhere was conducted before he found himself at the door of the guest bathroom.

A gentle knock given, he frowned a bit when the door opened and Jill reduced the space between them to zero. Arms wrapping around his neck, she held to Wesker tightly. He didn't stop her, only slipped his own about her slender frame.

One hand against her hair, the other cinched at the curve of her spine. Her sobs were heartbreaking enough, for her father rotting in prison and Kevin soon to be rotting in a grave. That really was irrelevant; the threat to her own life had now revealed itself in full plumage with a woman missing a head. Nobody was safe if they were sending messages with corpses. He had been aware of that all along, but she had not fully understood just who her father had made deals with until now. The sun was starting to set in the world of Jill Valentine. "Jill…" He tried to quell her crying, though to no avail. Gently rocking her there in that doorway, a few minutes of hushing her on his part resulting in only silent tears and occasional sobs.

Finally lifting her chin to meet his stare, the blonde man's stone expression softened. "Listen to me. You are safe. I will never let anything happen to you, do you understand?" Her nodding wasn't enough. "I will kill them if they come anywhere near you. Make no mistake; they will pay for what they've done." His severe tone left her teary blue eyes wide. "Let's get some rest." Pulling her with him into the bedroom, the door was shut behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8: Drowning**

_Patch over holes in my weakened heart,_

_Which angels hold and devils pull apart…_

_-Wicked Man's Rest_

_November 12, 1991_

_Four boys standing crowded by lockers in the hallway of a Denver high school were making quite a bit of noise in the midst of the hustle and bustle. Varsity jackets draped in red and blue dubbed them all as athletes. The scrawny boy in the middle of them alerted to the fact that they were bullies. Books knocked from his grasp, the dark haired kid cowered briefly before obeying the bark to 'Pick that up, you slob'. As he tried, he found himself shoved right into an open locker. Crammed in, trapped, he could hear the combination spinning shut and their jeering as the bell rang and his tormentors departed, high fives all around. Just another day for him in the hellhole he so desperately escaped every day in his fantasy books and Marvel comics._

_A few minutes pass and a gentle tap is heard by the boy on the metal of the locker. Peering through the holes, his stare met that of two doe eyed pools of blue._

'_Shhh…'_

_He nodded, relaxing inside the locker. The boy watched in amazement, seeing only the top of the girl's head as she pressed her ear against the metal painted in the school's colors. Click after click the combination lock spun beneath her long fingers, then finally the door was open and sunlight poured in. A hand offered to him, she helped him out of the locker._

_Stepping out, he dusted through his hair with a palm. "Thank you…" He couldn't even meet her stare as they both knelt and gathered up his books and papers. She rested her hand over his, giving a gentle squeeze before retracting her palm. There lay a ten dollar bill. "What's this?" He asked curiously, ivy green eyes peering over to her._

"_The lunch money they stole from you that I swiped."_

_He smiled. She smiled. _

'_Robin Hood types…'_

* * *

Her sobbing had ceased around 3:45 am. It was now 4:15 am, according to the red lit digital clock that sat on Albert's nightstand. Lying on his back, the blonde's stare was pitched to the ceiling. One arm resting over his chest, his other wrapped about the huddled form at his side.

"That woman you were talking about…"

"What about her?" His voice was graveled from disuse, eyes so tired they closed every now and then. He felt cold beneath the sheets, dragging the comforter up over his torso.

"Did you love her?" The question was curious. She was trying to think of something else. Anything was happier than now. Happier than thinking of the corpse that could have easily been her had she not stayed. Some things were just meant to be. Jill had not learned that yet.

He would entertain her curiosity. "With all of my heart, once upon a time, I did. After our son was born, she fell into a deep depression. I tried to convince her it was 'baby blues', but she wouldn't hear of it. Constantly going to doctors, thinking he was sick. She really just wanted attention. I know her father didn't help by treating her like she was just a reproductive system for the son he never had. She deserved better than that in a father. She took my son and I haven't seen her since. I will never understand abused women and the fathers that abused them." A horrible chapter in his life that still haunted him even to the present day. Elizabeth's father had almost written his own death warrant the night that she had left Albert. He could still recall her screams with every slam of his fist against the face of her father.

The aging man had shown up at their home with child protective services, claiming that both parents were unfit for raising the boy who was barely three months old. Nothing but lies, and a futile attempt to wreck their family that gained substance the moment he said the wrong thing.

"_I will take the boy. There's nothing in this world you can do to stop me."_

It was probably the first time Albert realized how little difference there was between humans and the rest of the animal kingdom. Something snapped inside of him, and all he could think of was the primal need to protect his offspring and removing the threat to his new family. Three knuckles had broken; Duncan's face a bloody mess. It had only been Elizabeth's strike against his face that had stopped the blonde man. She had chosen her sire over her mate, she and the boy gone with the mother who barely knew her and the father who probably was disfigured to this day. Albert… would never forgive her for that.

The twelve hours he spent in a cell after were used to feed his hatred of Elizabeth, while he nursed a damaged hand. Something died in him that night. Something he thought he would never get back. Spencer had put that to use shortly after bailing him out. Duncan's price had been fifty thousand for silence and no charges pressed. Hopefully his wife had drank herself into a grave. A tiny bit of justice done in a world of wrongdoings. This was before S.T.A.R.S., when he changed from a happy father and a loving husband...

"What's his name?"

Drawn from the pool of memories, his silver blued stare shifted to her. "Who?"

"Your son." Her reply was shy and soft, her attention drawn to his hand that lay against his chest. She examined his fingers, pressing her own against them to size herself up. Hers were long and slender, so frail and pale in comparison to his. The highest digit of each of his was able to curl down over the top of hers. As she turned the palm downwards, the scars were visible to her eyes. Curious pads traced over each. A sliver of fear ran through the back of her mind. These were the marks of control lost.

"Jacob." He swallowed hard, realizing how that word had become as sacred to him as the name of God himself had been long ago to the first followers—rarely spoken and never written.

"Why Jacob?" Jill shifted back, head resting on the pillow as she peered into his eyes with her own doe blue pair. She still toyed with his hand between her own two.

Stare shifting to the ceiling, Wesker sighed deeply. "Bible. Jacob was the son of Isaac, and grandson of Abraham. He was the father of Israel, and a bit of a trickster. Also the father of Joseph, who could interpret dreams and became a powerful man himself who took mercy on his brothers."

She nodded, brushing aside a few strands of brunette from her face. "I didn't realize you were so religious."

To that, he laughed a bit. "I'm not all that religious. I don't see it as any different than William's mother naming him after Shakespeare, really." He had given up faith the night that Elizabeth had left. He had given up many things. Leave it at that, please.

"Then why name him after a figure in the Bible?" Comforter pulled up higher, long fingers brushed away hair once more.

He gave a bit of a shrug, face solemn and calm as the man peered up at the shadows cast on the ceiling. "Maybe at the time I hoped that it would give him strength. A name is a powerful thing. It defines us as different than everyone else." Head tilting to view her, his pupils dialed wide. Cornflower hues did strange things to him as he stared. "Or maybe I just asked a nurse in passing what the most popular name was that evening." Her little shove caused him to laugh. "Didn't like that answer?"

"No!" She laughed in return. "You're not like that. I imagine you spent a lot of time choosing a name for your first son. I think you wanted him to be a great man when you chose that name."

"And tell me, Miss Valentine, how are you so sure of that?" She wasn't wrong, but he was curious of her opinion on the matter. Vaguely anyway.

"Because…I imagine that when you are in love you take care of it and guard it well."

His smirk dropped, though she probably couldn't see it in the darkness cast by the dim light of the street lamp outside against drawn shades.

"You showed your hand the moment you went out of your way for me, to answer your question. You're a good man, with a good heart… Life just hasn't been very good to you. It's like a fisherman knowing another fisherman, when I look at you."

He had no response for that, and he lay silent for several minutes. She had disarmed him…completely.

'_Son of a…'_

For a while, he'd told everyone, to include himself, that it'd all be done for the benefit of Umbrella. She was an asset and a hostage for Spencer to keep this all from getting out of control. For once, reality was selfishness that he didn't want to admit—desire to have something for himself again. For such a frigid and self-preserving individual, he'd been very selfless for a good portion of his life.

Even Elizabeth had complained of him being a sort of 'lap dog' to Spencer, heeling to his master at a mere word. Annette never hesitated to air how much of a cunt she thought Elizabeth was for putting him in such a situation. That only caused Elizabeth emasculate him more because he didn't bother to argue with Annette's words. He actually agreed with Annette on that. 'Don't bite the hand that feeds you,' wasn't a term that the redhead understood at all. It was a very different time in his life and by then it was too late for him to get out. Jake was already born and he would be damned before he left his son with that woman. So damned he was now. All the praise in the world from the board for every mess he cleaned up and every target he took out, never could fill the hole left in him by Jake's absence.

'_The things I've done…'_

His arm wrapped tighter around Jill, drawing her to him. She didn't resist, blue eyes slipping open from her beginning to doze off. As close as they were, he could smell her perfume. Once his nose was buried against her hair, as he clutched her like a child does his favorite blanket, the jasmine of her shampoo filled the blonde's nostrils. He inhaled, and fought the tightness growing in his chest.

'_All for someone else.'_

The look on his face was something she hadn't seen before when Wesker drew back to peer at her: a mixture of pain and suffering. The only sound in his head was that of the heart banging against his chest. His hands had moved to the sides of her face, the scars of his knuckles visible to him in the dim light. The things she made him do, it was downright crazy for his reality. How dare this woman cause him to think of himself, of things long since lost and pushed to the back of his soul. Think of what he really wanted out of a life that was draining away with each minute that ticked by. Not what Spencer wanted, not what William and Annette desired as the outcome to all of this.

The pads of her fingers gently grazed the side of his face, raking over stubble that was beginning to show. A gentle touch was so foreign to him now, and the reintroduction caused him to draw breath sharply. Knit brows, the iron mask he bore finally had met its match. Years of frost had made it brittle, and her warmth was the last straw. He looked peaceful and pale, but underneath he could barely inhale.

"Albert?"

The sound of his name brought him out of wherever he was lost in the wells of blue that stared at him and he exhaled. "Yes?"

"Can… I kiss you?" Shy and nervous as the day she'd met him, fingers worrying at the collar of his t-shirt.

'_Did…Did she just ask for permission? Am I really that intimidating? Fuck me. I need to work on that.'_

He chuckled softly. It was barely above a whisper as he leaned in and graced her lips with his own. The remnants of bourbon still clung in scent from his mouth. She didn't care.

'_I can work with this. I can keep her. William is wrong.'_

The brunette's arms laced about his neck, head tipping as her lips drew apart to fuse to his. She shivered as a hand of his slipped beneath her shirt to slip against her spine.

'_I can make it work…'_

He would tell himself this. Believe he was bold and clever enough to have what he wanted if he was able to challenge the empire that was Umbrella herself: David against Goliath all over again. Money was fine, and Umbrella being exposed as a the world's whore when it came to illegal arms dealing along with Spencer possibly hanging himself to evade arrest was just the icing on the cake.

As he drew back once more, drinking in her face once more with fingers gently brushing over her blushed and freckled cheeks, he was really seeing the true promise within her—a different future with a different woman. This time, he wouldn't need saved by anyone ever again. Jill had stolen what Elizabeth made off with so many years ago, and gave it back to him without wishing for anything in return.

'_Well, that's not true. I did have to kiss her.'_

A small price to pay, really, Albert. A very small price to pay for this little vigilante to snatch her hand into Pandora's box and retrieve hope for you.

The gentle gesture between the two broken, her nose came to rest against the side of his. "Hey…" She said softly.

"What is it?" His eyes remained shut as his hands slid up and down her back.

"We'll find him someday. She can't keep him away forever. He'll want to know you. You're his dad and nothing will ever change that." Her lips pressed against the scars on his knuckles, over and over.

Albert couldn't muster a reply. This had all been too much for one day so he just buried his face against her chest, blonde hair soon gently stroked by gentle hands. He would believe her. It was coming down to the fact that he either needed to believe it or she would have to stop feeding him hope that he could be a happy man again. He didn't want to tell her to stop. He wanted to be fooled. He wanted her to be right.

He'd been as wary of the apple she offered as a blind man is of a flashing light, and he would apologize to no one for it. Only she would be crazy enough to reach in against the tide, when she herself couldn't fight the current, to help him to the surface to draw breath once more.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 9: Futility**_

**Appreciate the reviews. I will keep the chapters coming at a decent rate, hopefully. **

The cut had been clean, more than likely a machete's deed done to this young woman. Jane Doe was actually Alexis Christiansen, a senior botany major at the local college. The previous evening, which had meant the end of her existence as a vibrant and happy girl, concluded in her body being nothing more than dead meat on a medical examiner's slab. The bright pink dress that cut off just past her knees, which probably brought on more than a few whistles, now lay drenched in bloodstains and caked mud. Even in death, even without a head, it was easy to tell this girl took great care to groom. What nails remained on her hands were tipped in glacial white. Her tennis bracelet was expensive to say the least, even in an evidence bag it glittered in white gold. A hole dead center of her stomach was visible, the fabric there shred with meat and organs exposed. Albert's hand, cloaked in latex, came to rest over the lost girl's own.

'_Such a waste. At times I wonder how many more will be caught in the crossfire of Umbrella's dealings before the public begins to take serious notice. This may pass in the public eye as nothing more than gang violence. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.'_

Officer Slade was a mess, to say the least, on the slab next to Alexis. A gruesome artist had turned him into a masterpiece of the macabre. A blast just below his ribcage stood out, the hole leaving not a bit of meat in its wake through his torso. A once handsome face had been bludgeoned to distortion. Signs of torture were apparent all over his body, to include his genital region. All of that tattooing to make him appear tough was as worthless as wearing a tarp in a nuclear waste dump.

"My guess would be that both died within seconds of the shotgun blast. Considering one wound through each and the evidence of sexual intercourse along with a clean hole through him and the mess of shrapnel buried in her…" The medical examiner, Tomas Borders, paused for a moment. His aged face swung up, wrinkled stare meeting Wesker's own through tired green eyes. "..He was on top when they were ambushed."

"I think I've seen enough." Albert's frosted words echoed through the chilly room. The examiner was quick to put both dead back in their new homes, locking them up in the coolers, as the blonde officer departed through the steel doors at the other end of the room. Latex gloves pitched in the appropriate bin, another pair of doors swung open as he stepped out of Hades and back into the RPD's fresh air.

His eyes widened at the sight of Irons and Spencer waiting for him in the lobby, which lay beyond yet another pair of doors across the hall he currently stood in.

'_Huh, Spencer is walking his fat dog early this morning.'_

Stepping through the doors, Albert was expecting the worst as Spencer gave a nod and Irons began to lead the way back to his office.

'_Joy…'_

"My streets are about to be a fucking warzone now." Irons growled from behind his desk and a glass of whiskey. Wesker had always known him to be a closet alcoholic, considering the minibar that the chief kept locked in the mahogany desk. A pudgy finger pointed at the tall blonde man, the balding man said something most regrettable. "If you think for one moment that you'll keep your badge, you're dead wrong!"

Edging towards visibly bristling, Albert's lips parted to give his beloved boss the tongue lashing of a lifetime. However, it was Spencer who was out the gates first.

"There is no need for that sort of tone, Brian. I can count on two hands the number of times you've screwed up beyond belief. Was it a mistake for me to keep you behind that desk?" Spencer's threat lay beneath the question and was as calm and cool as dawn in winter.

That put an end to Irons barking at the end of his chain, tail firmly tucked between his legs. Seething, he settled back into the leather bound chair. His eyes never left Wesker, who bore an emotionless expression. Irons could feel the blonde's smile behind those sunglasses. "What do you propose then, Mister Spencer? I can't have this in Raccoon City. Gang bangers killing cops and college students isn't exactly normal around here. It's on the front page of every damn paper. The press is in a feeding frenzy over all of this. I may be in your good graces, but the Mayor is not and he's already up my ass."

'_Good graces… More like on the payroll…'_

Spencer sighed deeply, aged hands resting firmly on the head of the cane he carried. "This has very little to do with the girl or Officer Wesker. Hurting her would hurt Dick, who is the main witness against Arvada. Killing her would have been enough for Dick to end his life. What does an old thief have to live for if he's already outlived his offspring? They can't get to him in solitary confinement." Picking up a couple crime scene photos from Irons' desk, Spencer gave them a once over before dropping them back down. "He's doing what little he can to try to hurt me after I burned his world to the ground and cast him out of the circle for stealing from me." Aged eyes set on Brian's face, Ozwell seemed to be looking into the man's eyes to see if he had a clue of the bigger picture. Apparently Spencer found none. "It's very simple. He attacked an old friend of mine who used to be in my employment, police and I respond almost immediately with guns and lawyers."

Wesker's stare narrowed, eyes shifting to Ozwell as the old man lit up a cigar. "Dick must have suspected that, hence why he called me." The games within games… and he had to play very carefully at this point.

The aged Spencer nodded gently, smoke rolling from his lips. "The old silver fox isn't as silly as he appears. Dick is so disarming it is hard to remember at times how truly dangerous he can be." Ash flicked to the floor, Ozwell didn't even seem to notice the look of disgust Irons had for the disrespect to his polished wood floors. "Now then, attacking an old friend of mine and my immediate response would make one wonder why I would shell out eighty thousand for the best lawyer this side of the Mississippi as his defense attorney. What could Dick know that I don't want exposed at all? What could I know about Arvada or Arvada knows of me?" The old man rose to his feet, ashing out the cigar right on Brian's desk. "I don't think I need to say any more than that. Other than if outsiders began to dig into Raccoon City itself, they'd find just who is funding S.T.A.R.S. and how many payrolls you're really on, Brian."

"That doesn't answer what I am supposed to do, Mister Spencer…" Irons' face was bright red at this point, hands balled into fists. Embarrassment was one thing Brian Irons could not handle under any conditions, and he had egg all over his face now. A shame Spencer wasn't willing to wipe it off for him.

Ozwell turned, peering at Albert. Still, he addressed Brian's question. Irritation raised swiftly in the tones that escaped the mouth of the aristocrat. "Oh… I would suggest letting your men and women hunt down the thugs. Kill them or bring them to me up at the Estate if you don't have the stomach to take out the trash, Brian. Officer Wesker will handle the rest in court. He knows what he needs to do…" A hand clapped on Albert's shoulder and Spencer departed. He paused at the door. "Bring Arvada's bastard to me, though. Alive."

Both men remaining sat in silence for a moment. It was Irons who spoke first. "I hope you have a good plan for this. I'm not going down because of you."

'_A good plan? If you only knew how all of this was going to play out in the end. Perhaps William wasn't so wrong for suggesting you be the fall man. Incompetent enough…'_

To that remark, Albert's pearled smile appeared and he rose to his feet. Eyes set on Irons behind his shades, he just chuckled a bit. "Don't worry, Brian… I'm not rolling you under the bus with me. You'll have my badge before this drama is through."

Once Wesker had departed, Irons was left only with his thoughts. Thoughts that roamed curious as to why Dick Valentine would have sought employment with a clear enemy of Umbrella. Examining one of the photos on his desk, something seemed to settle in the mind of the police chief. Stroking his mustache, deep brown eyes narrowed in stare as he dropped the photo and reached out to the old rotary phone sitting on his desk.

"What are you going to do, Albert?" Annette's question slipped past her lips hovering behind a steaming cup of coffee. Ice hued eyes fixed on the face of the blonde man who seemed to be staring at absolutely nothing, a smile curled over the lip of the cup as his stare met hers.

"About what?" Feigning ignorance as always, Albert shifted in the uncomfortable patio chair. It gave a rusted squeak with his movement. "You need new chairs." Subject switched, evasive. Unlit cigarette between his fingers, he shifted his attention to its white paper.

Eyes rolling, she sat the cup on its saucer. "About…the trial." A long pause and she continued. "Also about the reason a girl with brown hair hasn't been home for days on end even though the man who was in her life is now draped beneath an American flag and laid to rest." As his attention returned to her, she smirked. "First couple days I didn't think anything of it until I realized I hadn't heard a peep from you either. That's the problem when you show your hand so horribly and aggressively." Ash flicked into the metal tray on the round table, she chuckled a bit. "You are a bit reckless…"

"Does William know?" His question sliced through her thoughts with a razor's edge.

"…and it's a bit cute to watch." Another sip taken from the cup of coffee, her blue eyes shifted to Sherry playing in the yard. Two tiny kittens in tow, the pigtailed girl was as happy as ever. Stare softening for a moment, she looked back to Albert. "He hasn't been home."

Wesker let his air out in a deep sigh, finally lighting the cigarette with a lighter he retrieved from the table. "You've been fairly mean to me lately, Annette." He viewed her shrug as she lounged back, and chuckled. "That worried she would disappear from our grasp if she was upset? Battle of the sexes doesn't seem to be your 'thing'."

The blonde woman smiled wide. "Am I that easy for you to read now? I don't know how truly valuable she will be…but better to be safe than sorry. Especially if the old man is gone, we'll need her… Not like we have an army at our disposal like Spencer. She has turned out to be a good friend, though. Cleans up after herself, does laundry, watches Sherry…" A long pause on her end before Annette spoke again. "Why play this silly game?"

Albert's turn to give a shrug, smoke rolling from his nostrils. "William and Spencer both made it fairly clear that she is an asset in their own lines of thought as to what that word means."

Deadpan, she let off a snort in disbelief. "Does this woman really have you so dislodged from the norm that you're taking the advice of an idiot and my husband on matters of attraction? I'm fairly sure Spencer can't remember what a relationship is that didn't revolve around his money and William didn't have one ever before I came along." Fingers coming to rest against the side of her face as her head canted, Annette could only shake her head. "Albert, I've never known you to be a man that second guesses himself. Why start now?" Her stance was clear as day, in spite of everything.

"You actually agree?" He seemed surprised, and it was scribbled all over his features.

Leaning forward, ash flicked into the tray once more, Annette peered up at Albert. "I haven't seen you smile in a long time. That changed today when I opened the door. I hate watching you hide behind a mask and pretend everything is alright. I get fed up watching William doing it, but to see you do it… is so much worse. At least Will has Sherry and I. You really don't have anyone anymore…" Cigarette between her lips, she took a few long drags.

"What about the plan?" Arms folding over his vest, the blonde man finally found a comfortable position on the old chair.

"We can still proceed." Fingernails tapping on the table's top, her stare lifted towards the roof of her home as she put it all together in her mind. "I don't think showing her what Spencer is up to would be a good idea…yet. She's fragile, naïve, and really just needs to do what she's good at. It took seven months before Dick contacted you after that night? He's a hardened criminal… What about her? She's never taken a life, let alone would be ready for any of what we are diving into."

Ash tapped into the tray, Albert nodded in agreement. "I still want her in S.T.A.R.S. Gives me the opportunity to train her to handle such scenarios. Potential is there, she just needs to be molded into a competent fighter."

Annette let off a snicker. "Still want her that close? Not an easy game to play."

"Much easier if two of us are handling the mess at the facility that Spencer is setting up for battle testing the B.O.W.s." His aqua stare met hers. "Where is Umbrella on that anyway?"

She shrugged, finishing off her cup of coffee. "Three or four years away if we're lucky. They're building it under the old warehouse district that was recently condemned."

"By then, we'll have everything…" Putting out the cigarette, Albert's gaze settled on the sun slowly retreating behind the tree line.

Annette's stare dipped low before she rose to her feet with cup and saucer in tow. "Whatever makes you happy, Albert." She offered a smile and then stepped indoors.

'_I think I am.'_

Arms folding about her slender form, his nose nestled against the hollow of her throat. "Trial begins tomorrow. Arvada will be put away for good… May even get lethal injection if he is tried for first degree on all counts. Not sure when we will have to go up there to testify."

Jill didn't have much to say in return for a few minutes, nails grazing absently along the skin draping the inside of his wrist in a hypnotic fashion. "What are you going to tell them?" Cornflower hues lifted at long last to meet his as she drew far enough away to peer at Albert's face.

Lips pursing into a thin line, Wesker let his air out in a sigh. "I… have no idea." Frosted grey eyes meeting hers in stare, he smiled. May have been the first time Jill had ever seen his actual smile. It was all wrong in all the right ways, little more on the left than the right yet wide and exposed pearled teeth beneath. "Been distracted by a few things." Fingers slipping to his hip, he relieved himself of the Samurai Edge and its holster. "There's this woman…"

"A woman? Seems to always be a woman with you." Jill grinned, pulling away from him. As he tried to snatch her arm and draw her back, she twisted about and avoided his reach entirely. Her giggles lit up the house as she darted up the steps leading out of the den and into the living room.

"I may have a problem with this one." He followed her at a relaxed pace, relieving himself of further annoyances such as gloves, vest, web belt and glasses. Once she was in sight, he made a move to follow her trail behind the couches while Jill pretended not to notice him nearing her, browsing the desk along the wall. "She's trouble."

Valentine nodded, flipping through the pages of an issue of Vogue that she had somehow managed to convince him she'd needed. "Maybe you should arrest her."

"She hasn't done anything wrong… yet." Pulling his watch off, Albert dropped it on the desk. "She's the kind of trouble that has my thoughts ensnared, especially the thoughts about where I'm going in life."

Either she didn't hear him or was just looking to say something off the wall. "Maybe you should handcuff her to the bed. Something kinky may get her to behave." Ice blue eyes lifting, her brows popped high as she peered at his wide eyed expression. "What?"

A hand covering his face, Albert let off a sigh. "Were you even listening to me?" Her unconvincing 'yes' led to him snatching up the magazine. Turning it over to plain view, his face could not have been more priceless. Eyes wide and face red, words were hard to form for a moment. Regaining composure and clearing his throat, he offered the magazine back to her. "In the future, could you please listen to me instead of reading about the '50 things that will drive me wild in bed'? Your answers are…"

"Vulgar?"

Brow raised, he shook his head. "Unorthodox may be a better word when pertaining to you only giving me a fraction of your attention."

"Well, you tend to talk a lot when you should just kiss me."

"Is that so?" Leaning in, his lips graced hers briefly. Warm and moist, he could taste the gloss she carefully dabbed on those pouty appendages. Slipping away after, leaving her to nearly fall forward, he stepped out of sight towards his bedroom. "Noted, Miss Valentine."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 10: Shell Suite**_

_**In a sea of waves,  
We hug the same plank,  
Just as I had rehearsed it over in my brain,  
(I saw your end)  
If the waves suck you in, and you drown,  
If like you should sink down beneath,  
I'll swim down.  
Would you?**_

Closing the door behind her, Jill stepped into the darkened bedroom with muted footsteps on plush ivory carpet. As the brunette turned around the corner that led into the master bedroom itself, she came to a stop. Lingering in the shadows with long fingers resting along the corner, she watched Albert in silence.

Moonlight spilled its fingers between open shades as the blonde drug his last boot off from his seat on the bed. Giving it a toss into the open doors of the walk-in closet, he let out a sigh. Toes giving a curl and then stretch, surgeon's fingers found the back of his t-shirt and tugged upwards. Tanned flesh exposed, the white shirt was balled up and pitched in the laundry hamper. Light and shadow wove over his form, joining at the slopes of his shoulders while light retreated soon after towards the blades of each. Toned muscle dipped at the spine and wrapped about his form. He appeared as the story she knew from childhood of a statue that came to life at a mere prayer by its crafter—perfect. A well-oiled machine capable of much death and destruction if it felt both were needed. Side profile of his face exposed as one silvery blue iris peered over his shoulder and found her. "What are you doing back there?" His usual tone had abandoned him, curiosity having overthrown it.

'…_You're staring. Stop it! Say something!'_ Her inner voice ran to the nearest wall of her skull and began to bang desperately for function to return. A good shake of her head, brunette strands gently tucked behind an ear and she approached. A nervous laugh left the young woman before she spoke. "I just… thought I should say 'good night'." She didn't mean it.

He knew that. Turned to view her, one hand came to rest at the center of the bed in support. Her gaze switching to a wall only caused a smirk to slip over his lips. Still a nervous fawn in a lion's den, her innocent nature was making it very difficult to ignore growing desire. In the dim light, her pale blue eyes seemed almost illuminated. "Jill?"

"Yes?" Almost on cue, she stepped closer, nervous finger pads worried over the joints of the digits on her hands. Her stare was still on the Vitruvian Man.

'_Shy thing. This innocent visage may be more useful to her later. Though she may have mastered it already…' _

Tactical thought brushed aside, he caught her gaze after a moment of silence. "Stay with me."

Lips parting into a smile, she laughed a bit. "I thought I was." Pointing towards the hall that led out of the room, she peered back to him with a shrug. "Am I not welcome on the couch?" More locks of brunette were gently brushed back behind her ear.

Finally rising from the bed, a hand lifted to rake through slicked blonde strands as Albert approached her. The shadows of the tree outside stretched their fingers over her pale face as he stood mere inches from her and she shifted to view him in what little light was spilling in. His hands found hers, breaking them apart from her nervous habit. Her question caused a devious little chuckle to escape him, pearl white teeth flashed from between his lips. She couldn't be that naïve, though the pools of blue were doing their best to fool him.

'_She's baiting me. She wants to hear it.' _

He loved being fooled, regardless. "No, you're not." A reply from her was unwarranted and unwanted as Albert's mouth met hers. The gentle affection shifted, his lips pressing desperate and heated kisses against each of hers in a slow and methodical fashion. "I want you here…"

'_I want all of you here. I want to spend the rest of my existence here in this room, with you. I want to forget…'_ His mouth fused to her after, tongue begged for entry and tasting her in the process. A pleased little purr escaped him as her arms snaked to the nape of his neck and her lips parted to allow him further delving.

_**You hang anchors over my neck,  
I liked it at first,  
But the more you laughed, the crazier I came…**_

Lids hooding cornflower hues, she sank into the kiss. His cologne wafted into her nostrils, overpowering Jill's sense of smell. The fragrance of him was everywhere, and soon she felt warm fingers following in suit beneath her shirt at the hips.

Desperation and lust laced as tightly as a corset through his deliberate motions. Tugging the shirt over her head in one swift motion, he gave the article of clothing a twist and captured the brunette's arms above her head. A chuckle escaping him, he teased her lips with gentle kisses here and there with the occasional draw back to drink in the sight of her scantily clad form. She squirmed and laughed, trying to hide herself with little avail. The lilac bra was far from the gaudy lingerie many women used to seduce him in the past.

Fake breasts, tucks, peels, tattooing, piercings… They all once appealed to him. They had all been broken women with broken dreams, and they felt as long as they controlled the sex that they were in power. Sex was their way of putting a Band-Aid over wounds that required stitching. He didn't need a degree in psychology to know that they were not good candidates for anything other than a relationship based on orgasms.

Now, he was left staring at Jill in a bra more than likely pulled off a rack at the same store she bought clothing for church and could not have been more enticed. Several very light freckles dotted over her shoulders, collarbone, and further down, only stopping short of where cleavage vanished beneath light purple cloth. Other than that, her skin was flawless all the way down to the beginning of her hips curving from the jeans she wore "Beautiful…"

Her stare pitched up to meet him, cheeks flushed heavy in crimson. "I…" As he released her wrists in favor of his hands on her hips, Jill slipped her own hands to his chest. She'd wanted to touch him.

Everywhere.

"You're soft…" She muttered absently. Curious fingers slid over the rise and fall of his pectorals, skittering upward to his face. A shiver ran through Albert as her nails grazed his skin. A bit of stubble lining his jawline, she drug a nail against the hair. "You need to shave…"

"No I don't. What will I use to torment you later if I shave?" While his thumbs drug hypnotic circular motion over her hips, his chin found its way to hollow of her neck. A quick little twitch of his chin against skin and she was a flurry of high pitched giggles and pleas for him to stop. "That wasn't very difficult." White smile perked towards her as he drew back, he mimed her pout. "Don't be cranky, Jill."

A perturbed expression filling her face, the cropped haired brunette slid a hand between them. Long and slender fingers brushing over the crotch of his cargo pants, she grinned wickedly at his bristling. "Don't be cranky, Al."

"Oh that's not my cranky face…" Brows previously jolted high by her unexpected advancing; the blonde let his air out in a sigh. "I just didn't think we'd-..!" Cut off by her hand slipping in and slowly beginning to stroke him, Wesker's lips curled into a grin. "You are too disarming…"

"You talk too much." Her lips finally fused to his, hunger exposed in full swing as her tongue massaged against his. Top button of his cargo pants undone, both of her hands found their way in and began working him over.

He began to relieve her of her jeans, though his tugging only made it misalign and end up stuck. Albert's unexpected yell of 'Fuck!' didn't seem to help much either, though Jill giggled up a storm. 'It's not funny' didn't help either; she just grinned and offered him condolence kisses on his failure to remove them. Knife produced from his cargo pants, one quick cut ruined the jeans. Impressed, the woman snaked out of the jeans as quickly as she could manage. Heel caught in one of the legs of denim, the brunette nearly fell over. Luckily, someone was right there to catch her with a strong hand.

"Easy there, don't kill yourself over this." Albert said with a chuckle, helping her back up. Knife tossed on the nightstand, he did well to take in her lower body.

"This is coming from the man that just destroyed my favorite jeans with a knife to get me out of them." She winced as he gave her lilac colored panties a snap. "Ow…" Nails of one hand dragging over his pectoral, Jill dug them in briefly. "You'll pay for that."

"How do you plan to do that, Ms. Valentine?" He purred, nose nestling against the hollow of her throat before he tested his teeth against the skin. Her soft groan caused his length to twitch beneath the hand resuming its task of working him over.

Fingers sliding down to trace against the muscles adorning his stomach, blue irises met his steel gray in a yearning stare. Tilting forward, nearly on her tiptoes, her mouth met his in an unyielding kiss. The space between them wavered between inches and centimeters with each moment that passed.

Hands lost in her locks, his mouth returned the gesture with equal vigor and desire. A pair of lotus eaters, they drank the ambrosia of their own doom.

Fingers sweeping down on her rump, the man quickly guided Jill to the bed, giving her a playful shove onto it. Cargo pants and boxers dumped on the floor, he soon was on all fours before her, his lips grazing along the inside of her calf. Tongue flicked over the soft skin behind her knee, the surprised gasp she let out only made him grin.

"Don't…" She said in a prickled tone.

Nibbling along the inside of her thigh, his steel colored eyes peered up at her. "Do you want me to stop, Jill?" A gentle kiss or two over the skin followed the question, eyes never leaving her face. She looked so conflicted…

"No…"Jill whispered, her fingers stretched out to tousle his blonde strands. Deciding if she liked his hair a mess or not would have to wait. As he tugged the garment down with his teeth, she began to lift up. "Wait, I…" Nervous tone.

A gentle hand coming to rest on her stomach, Albert peered up at her. "Relax… I need to take care of you first, beautiful."

Recovering after, Jill didn't put up a fight as his mouth met hers. She could taste herself on his tongue. It didn't matter, her mind was already swimming.

"You're loud…"

"You're complaining?" Heavy lids finally relented and she viewed him as Wesker propped himself up.

"No. I just may be deaf in the future from your enjoying _that_. "Smiling at her, he slid a hand between her legs. "I want you, Jill."

"I think you made that very clear…" She said with a sigh, turning over towards him. Only watching as his fingers gently brushed the one exposed strap of her bra down, Jill smiled faintly. "I don't want this to be the last time."

He paused, considering her statement for a moment. A hand on her hip, the blonde's nose nestled against hers. "It won't be." Lips grazing against hers, he undid the clasp of her bra with a deft hand and rolled over atop of her. "I promise."

_Careful the promises you make, Albert._

Mouths meshed in a passionate kiss, the fingers of both parties were interlocked as their hands were pressed against the mattress. Tongues dancing to the sounds of bated breathing and restless feral tones were the only sounds. Bodies fused aside from the ravaging strokes delivered, there seemed no end in sight to this. Exhaustion was a foreign word, the two driven by something that sat within the depths of every human on the planet since the dawn of the species.

Jill's soft hands glided down the slickened back of her lover, a man who would one day defile the trust that had embedded itself in her heart. For now, her thoughts swam between disbelief in the moment and how much he filled her. Mewling softly, her brows knit tightly. His brief pause and gentle affections spoke wordlessly of the man's desire that she be just as content as he. Fingers dragging to the nape of his neck, her head lifted to utter one word softly in his ear. "Harder."

With that said, their mouths fused once more. Rocking his hips against her, Albert exhaled sharply. He had plenty to learn in the matters of how to please her.

The next morning, the doorbell went off much like a cannon in the quiet home and was followed by faint knocking at the door. "Housekeeping!"

"Not today!" Albert roared, half awake at this point. A groan, escaping the blonde, exhaustion wafted over his senses once more.

Another knock. "Housekeeping?"

"NO!"

"Housekeeping! Want me to fluff your pillow?"

"GO! AWAY!"

"Albert, don't yell. Who is that?" Jill's hushed voice could be heard though was filled with giggles for some reason.

Knock, knock, knock! "Housekeeping! Want me jerk you-"

The door swung open, and one very naked Albert Wesker opened the door. He seemed very displeased. May have had something to do with the shiner that encompassed his right eye. Probably a good thing it was five in the morning.

"Off?" William Birkin with eyes the size of dinner saucers stood there, mouth gaping open.

"Sure William!" Albert's face lit up as he extended a hand to invite the scientist in.

"I gotta go." William was quick to shuffle down the driveway to his car.

"Okay, if you really have to..." Rolling his eyes, Wesker stepped back inside. "Fucking William." Picking up the ice pack from the coffee table, he crawled back onto the couch with the brunette girl. "How bad is it?" He asked as his head tipped to peer at her.

Jill frowned deeply. "I feel so bad for elbowing you… It's very dark already."

Albert chuckled a bit, bringing the pack back up to cover the eye while she slid the blanket up to cover their intertwining bodies. His dark button down shirt hung from her shoulders, the pale skin of her stomach the only thing exposed.

"Not the worst a woman has done to me but definitely a first."

"You surprised me…" She mumbled, forehead coming to rest against his chest. Even with his laughter, she felt horrible.

"Noted, Jill. No surprising you with intercourse at three in the morning when you're dead asleep. In my defense, you were sleeping in a very provocative position." Her deadpan stare only caused him to snicker.

"Looks like you'll be wearing your glasses for a while."

Letting his air out in a sigh, he nodded. "It looks to be that way. Though I do think I would receive plenty of 'high-fives' if anyone ever found out it was related to kinky intercourse with you."

She gave him a scowl, tugging the dark shirt closed as he tried to snake a hand at the opening of the fabric.

He tried not to laugh. Faint smile given, his lips sought hers for a gentle kiss. The woman did not try tearing away, rather her arms flung about his neck. Lips parted, her tongue met his, as what was felt to be an eon had passed since the last gesture of affection had been exchanged between them.

_**If like you should sink down beneath, I'll swim down,  
Would you?  
Is that what you want?  
With you…**_

_**-Deftones 'Cherry Waves'**_

**I'm sure some have been waiting for this chapter for a while. Sorry to any expecting a porn scene. I really don't like writing purely about banging. I find it as lacking as my Wesker finds a relationship based on orgasms. If I'm writing about Wesker and Jill having sex, it's going to be like how regular people have sex : awkward, someone almost falls over, and someone gets an elbow or knee to the face by mistake sometimes. ^_^**


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 11: Breaking Bonds**_

Hours slipped by within the bedroom, darkness painted to every wall as the shades were drawn tightly shut. Scents of cologne, sweat, and lust permeated against the stale air of a room hardly ever occupied for an extended period of time. Clothing strewn over the floor remained where they fell the night before, crumpled and forgotten. The clock read ten 'o clock but its silent broadcast of time was ignored as well. Within the spacious bed, the sheets rustled restlessly as two bodies stirred from one position in favor of another.

Pale slender legs slid into hiding under the comforter, while arms latched tightly to a slumbering form next to it. "I never want to get up…" A soft feminine voice muttered, stray fingers brushing against blonde strands.

No reply. Someone was in a deep slumber for once in his life.

* * *

"Don't give me that look. That's the same look you gave me when it was requested that I cease researching with you in favor of other avenues of work." A swig taken from his cup of coffee, Albert kept his stare fixed to William's face. He pondered the possibility of an egg frying on it considering how red Will's features appeared.

"You screwed up five months of research that day. Now, you've screwed up several years of planning." William's voice was soft and subtle as the calm before the storm.

"I haven't screwed up anything, Will. The plan will still go as expected. Also, Lisa didn't die so I don't know how I ended up the scapegoat for that disaster." Another time, with an experiment that had gone wrong conducted on a young woman of the Trevor family. Her parents had died from months of exposure to various forms of viral agents, and Albert had nearly granted her the sweet release of death as well. That had been the last straw for the pair of scientists. A subject that went unspoken for so long.

"You're just as reckless today as you were that day." The words were sour, laced in anger as the scruffy and scrawny scientist picked up his mug of coffee, fingers careful of the heated surface of the mug as he took a sip. "I don't know why I bother to say anything. Now, I get to look forward to working for Spencer until he croaks or I croak." Grey eyes lifting miserably, the surrounding café they agreed to meet at didn't offer much in terms of things to gaze at. Ugly orange seating and tan plastic tables, place probably retained its original appearance from when it opened at the time Will was filling diapers down to the pine oil smell that lingered constantly. He hated meeting here, but it was private. "Do you hate me that much you'd pull this?"

"That is absurd. I don't hate you, William." Another sugar packet's contents dumped into his mug, the blonde dropped a spoon in and gave the coffee a stir. Silence and the clank of a spoon against a mug filled the air for a moment. His words almost made Will give a jump. "I need her loyalty."

"You need her what?" The scrawny scientist could barely believe what he was hearing.

"Think very hard for a moment, old friend. The old man doesn't really want Dick out of jail. She'd be a suitable replacement. Young, clever, and willing to do whatever needed for a friend of the family."

Hands folded in front of him, William shook his head. "Like he really needs her, honestly. He has an army at his fingertips."

"It's not about skill or a military operation. Spencer has always been something of a sucker for spies, finding their antics sensational. It's part of his aristocratic lunacy on top of several other things. Aside from that, should he ever catch wind of us…"

"He's paying to save her father."

"All it takes is one picture by the right person tailing us and we're done. All it takes is her father confessing what has happened for her to go to Spencer and beg him to spare Dick."

Hands cradling to his face, William gave a deep sigh. Defeat. "That would never happen. He'd kill all of us." Birkin's shoulders gave a visible sag as he leaned back in his chair. Poor William, nearly driven mad by all of this.

Lounging in his seat, Albert scooped up his mug of coffee. "Do I seem so foolish to you now?"

"Somewhat less than before we had this talk. However, I'm half tempted to file an anonymous report about how she beats you." Gesture towards the sunglasses, William tried his best to smile and laugh all of this off but it wasn't working well. They were walking a knife's edge.

Albert's face smeared without expression aired that he felt much the same.

Once outside, the pair conversed quietly on other matters. They'd been this way for as long as either could really remember: shoulder to shoulder and scheming.

William wasn't finished with all of this just yet. "I don't know how we're supposed to pull this off while you're playing nanny to her. Seems like a waste of space if you're just using her."

A sly smirk fixed to the blonde man's lips. "She has to go in with me anyway, so if she survives she's earned her keep and you drop this. She doesn't, then she doesn't and you have your way."

Birkin's expression remained sour. "What are you planning to do?"

Brows popping up, Wesker slipped a cigarette between his lips. "Make her useful. Is that an issue?"

It was… but William didn't answer.

* * *

Wind knocked out of her, Jill let a groan escape her as she took the hand offered by her attacker. Wretched from the blue mat, palms came to rest atop her head once she was back on her own two feet. Grey shirt soaked in sweat, the woman let a cough break free. "I need a break." She muttered breathlessly, striding to her gym bag at the other end. Dropping on her rear back on the mat with water bottle in hand, Jill wasted no time sucking down the warming water in the bottle.

"Already? I thought the academy was a 'cake walk'. All of this unarmed combat should have been covered within the first month." Albert's voice echoed in the empty gym as he stood over her. Saturday morning, nobody else around to watch the captain correct every flaw of his newest recruit's training.

The training itself at the academy had been difficult, so many laws and procedures hammered into her brain every day. Being pepper sprayed was probably the worst part, though all of that was over. _'Thank God, I wanted to kick my instructor in the nuts for that.'_ She absently thought with a grin, finishing off the water bottle's contents. "I may have fibbed about that."

After retrieving a towel from atop her bag, the blonde mopped away sweat that was starting to pour. "That wasn't the only thing. You forgot to mention how many of your peers were falling over themselves when you smiled at them on a daily basis." Her narrowed gaze only caused him to mirror her expression.

She could smell jealousy all over him. It was a bit surprising to hear any sort of jealous tone out of him. Always felt so small and plain in his presence, even if only a few inches separated them in height. She wasn't like the women he'd been with before, the ones Annette ranted were horrible witches after a few glasses of wine on Friday night.

There were many men at the academy, though she kept her distance and was nothing more than polite to any of them. Frequently, she was required to call and report back to her captain as to how her training had been progressing. A few times, the conversation turned elsewhere, more so toward keeping things focused in the budding relationship that the two shared. During weekends that she had off, he would show up once in a while and neither would be seen for those two days. _'Best days of my life, having him to myself.'_

"Why are you grinning at me like that?" His question broke through whatever part of those visits she was reliving.

"I… just was thinking…" She replied, tossing her water bottle back over near her bag. Lying back on the mat, it was clear she had no intentions of continuing this lesson despite that her instructor wouldn't take 'No' for an answer. "There's this guy…"

"You don't say?" Towel rolled up for a head rest, the blonde allowed himself to lie back as well. Eyes shutting, he let off a sigh. "How's the house hunt going?" Topic changed, he was feeling rather moody for some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Horrible. Raccoon City's ghettos are becoming more and more likely to be where I'm going to end up living." Jill's voice echoed in miserable tones as she rolled to look at him. "On the bright side I'll have a good reason to listen to Elvis Presley's 'In the Ghetto' on my way home from work every day."

A chuckle left the blonde, finding her little warped sense of humor amusing. "You're not going to live in the ghetto. I'll see what I can find now that I'm not on night shift. Marini is back from vacation." As the cropped haired brunette abandoned the mat to gather her bag and the water bottle, Albert sat up. "I know you do not wish for things to be this way, but…"

"I know. The case and the job both require that I go along with this." Shouldering the bag, Arctic met the Atlantic in stare. "It's fine." Not convincing and she didn't seem to really care to speak on it further as the pair departed. Around the block to the parking lot, she finally broke the silence. "I think I found a car, though."

"Oh?" Disinterest was heavy on the tongue as Wesker unlocked the doors to his pitch black car. "What kind is it?"

Jill could only smile and shrug as she waited for the click of her own door's lock.

* * *

The car lot they were standing in resided in the older part of Raccoon City. Less than twenty cars stood in the lot, and somehow Miss Valentine had found a Volkswagen beetle she couldn't live without. The car was in terrible shape right down to desperately needing a new paintjob. It was only after one good look at the car that Albert understood why Annette and William had insisted on Jill telling them when to be there.

"I don't know which is funnier: the car or the look on his face." Annette could barely keep her voice low enough as she leaned in towards her husband.

"I'd say it's pretty even." William could barely hold in a snicker, turn away to keep his longtime friend from seeing his grin.

Even with his back to them, and ten feet away, Albert could hear the pair giggling. "I'm so glad you two find this amusing." Annoyance filled his voice and scribbled itself all over his features as he turned and stepped back to where the Birkins stood. "You knew about this?"

Annette nodded, smiling sweetly. "We told her it'd be best if you tagged along this time, since she was seriously considering buying it."

"We wanted to be here to show our support of her first big purchase as an adult…" Thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose, William barely made it through the sentence before he was laughing.

"Bullshit, you two just came for the show." Grumbling, Albert folded his arms and sighed. The laughter from the pair wasn't helping his mood. "What do you think?" He asked as Jill approached from speaking to the salesman. _'Please say it's a piece of shit, dear heart…'_

"He said four-thousand and it's mine." Hands clasping behind her back, she turned to view the car. An expression of joy all over her freckled features could not be brought down.

"Does it even run?" The question should have been a joke, but the blonde was dead serious. The sound of a snort sent a glare towards the pair of scientists.

"He said there might be something wrong with the alternator." Lips pressing into a thin line, Jill shifted her stare up to his face. "But, I love it."

"Needs more than love to run, Jill…"

William and Annette finally had to retreat to the Shaggin' wagon before they were reduced to tears.

"I can buy another alternator… They're not that expensive." She protested; worry knitting itself to her brow.

Sunglasses finally slipped off, Albert sighed deeply. Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he swore a headache was going to set in at any moment. "A car like that shouldn't be on a lot. Usually beaters like this would be used for spare parts only. A wise decision as well, considering you don't know how far that rust really goes…"

"He said it's only on the surface."

"It's probably not. Don't you know what oxidization does to the frame and body of a car?"

"Do you?" Hands on her hips, the brunette woman narrowed her stare on him.

"Yes, I do actually. It ruins the car in short. Rust is dangerous as well to the human body. Cut yourself and we're in the hospital before you succumb to lockjaw."

"That's a myth. The bacteria come from feces and dust, not rust. I could prick my finger on a sewing needle and possibly get lockjaw."

Arms folding over his chest, Albert knew he wasn't going to win this battle. Though it seemed a bit strange that Jill would have intimate knowledge of the bacteria strain _Clostridium tetani _which was responsible for lockjaw_. _"Who told you that?"

"Annette. Why?" Brows raised, Jill could only look on in confusion as Wesker threw the dirtiest look towards the station wagon and Annette's head ducked out of sight.

'_I swear….'_

"Do you really want this car?" Sunglasses slipped back onto their perch, air escaped him in another sigh as she nodded. Keeping her happy was going to be the only way to keep himself happy. "Fine, but you're not paying four-thousand dollars for this thing. Probably will end up dumping that much into it to make it a decent automobile." Trudging off to speak to the salesman, it was only then he realized how out of the norm this was for him. Usually a woman in his company wanted a Mercedes, not a throwback that reminded one of the hippie era. Yet, here she was.

'_Life is stranger than fiction, couldn't make this up if I tried…'_

Within an hour, the car's price had been reduced to two thousand and Jill had the keys in hand. A sad look shrouded her features at his very sharp _**'No'**_ in response to her request for him to ride with her home.

"What a party pooper." Annette said with an over-the-top huff as she climbed into the Beetle on the passenger side.

* * *

"You've been in a mood all day…" Stabbing her fork into a piece of chicken, Jill peered at her dead silent dining companion. The only sound that had hung in the air for the past twenty minutes had been silverware on dishes and the chime of the grandfather clock from the den. His behavior was starting to drive her nuts.

"Thinking." His passive reply didn't quell her stare drilling into him. Quite aware of it, his steel grey eyes met her blues in gaze. "It's nothing."

"Dad always said a little bit of nothing is usually a whole 'lotta something."

"You start work tomorrow, my dear."

"So?" She didn't understand what that had to do with anything, taking a sip from her glass of iced tea.

"Your resume had to be embellished to allow for your joining." Taking a bite of chicken, his stare shifted to the nearby windows. "I'm just wondering if Irons is going to buy it."

One dark brow lofting higher than the other, Jill set her silverware down. "What do you mean by 'embellished'?"

Halfhearted shrug, he finished off the remaining poultry on his plate before responding. "May have had to add that you were in Delta Force for a spell. Everyone in S.T.A.R.S., aside from Rebecca Chamber who is sporting an IQ that is off the charts, has some sort of military experience." The look on her face was enough to cause a smirk to form on his lips. "What?"

"There are no women in Delta Force, Albert. That's no well-kept secret by any means."

"That's not what your military records say, dear heart. Brian Irons is also an idiot that never served a day in his life in the military. He doesn't know the difference." Cloth napkin set on his plate, he leaned back in his chair.

"…Do I even want to know why?" Fingers laced about her glass, Jill peered over the rim of her glass at him.

"Well, to be frank, I had to make you appear on par with the rest of the S.T.A.R.S. so that it wouldn't draw attention. I've had several veterans and members of S.W.A.T. that are looking for calmer work in this area and the only way to turn them all down is to have made you look like the best choice for the job."

Eyes wide, glass set down, she cleared her throat. "So, it's going to be apparent very quickly that I have no idea what I'm actually doing unless it comes to locks. What am I supposed to do about that?"

"Most recruits into S.T.A.R.S. are very lost for the first six months. After you finish a bit of training for rappelling and first aid you won't appear any different than anyone else. The only thing every member shares in common is training at the Academy and a few basic courses. Other than that, everyone in S.T.A.R.S. has a unique set of skills and it's why we function so well as a team."

"I know a couple of them are pilots… but I'm basically, in reality, just a burglar with a badge."

A chuckle escaping him, Albert rose to his feet. Both plates picked up, he slipped away into the kitchen. "You're not just a burglar with a badge. If I felt you really were that, I wouldn't have selected you for this role. I would have sent you down to the Umbrella plant to hunt for a job. It's not just my promise to your father that has you at my side." Dishes washed and racked, he peered up as she offered the two glasses over. "You put in the time and effort to get your education finished for this, have a good head on your shoulders when you're not being stubborn, and the things your father taught you gives you a unique perspective for cases. What more could I want in a recruit?" Rinsing and racking the glasses with the plates, he began to clean off the silverware.

"It's an awful risk…"

"It's not as bad as you're making it out to be, Jill. Your uniforms arrived this morning. May want to go inspect them before you have to wear one tomorrow." Subject swapped, he dodged the matter for now and hopefully with Irons being so ignorant he wouldn't have to revisit. He still felt himself far more clever than any of the other players in this game and would conduct himself accordingly.

* * *

The next day at the RPD, Jill was at least twenty minutes early. Dressed in her grey uniform, the beret bearing the S.T.A.R.S. crest sat on the desk before her. Most of the other members were busily working or talking amongst themselves. She recognized Chris and Forest, both greeting the newbie as they walked in. A brief chat with Redfield alerted to troubled waters in his relationship with Monica.

"She was seeing someone on the side. We're trying to work through it."

Forest's wide eyed expression and mouthing of the words 'He's so dumb' caused Jill to choke back a laugh.

Chris caught on from catching Jill's line of sight, face going sour as Forest gave him an award winning smile. "Anyway, has anyone seen the Captain?"

The door swung open to the S.T.A.R.S. office and Wesker set his gaze upon Jill immediately from behind his pair of sunglasses. "Valentine, you're late for your briefing with Chief Irons. Why didn't you report to the front desk?"

"I.. I.. I thought-"

"Try doing less of that until you have some rank or we're dealing with hostages, hm?" As she rose and strode out, he shook his head, shutting the door. A burst of laughter from the other members could clearly be heard.

"I had no idea..." She whispered in a worried tone once they were alone.

"Relax; it's all part of the game. Chief Irons actually demanded this; nobody else has had to deal with this treatment. Come on, this way." The captain strode ahead of her, taking the stairs.

Following in suit, her mind was spinning at how quickly he had gone from frosty back to the man she was so fond of. _'Paging Dr. Jekyll…'_

"Oh, and please just nod a lot and say 'yes' at the appropriate times. The less he knows of you, the better. Soon, you'll just blend into S.T.A.R.S. and he'll forget why he even had a hissy fit. If he so much as makes a sexual statement towards you, do not throw a fist. I'll have his badge and his fat ass on the street before you lose your job over such nonsense." The blonde said in a blunt and icy tone. Whatever Irons had said prior to Wesker's visit to the S.T.A.R.S. office to retrieve her, Albert was now out for blood any chance he got. The door to Chief Irons' office opening, the two entered with haste.

"So, this is our newest member of S.T.A.R.S.," the husky Irons said in a gruff and condescending tone. "Heh! I'll be sure to have you answer all the calls when someone locks their keys in their car."

Jill could easily see why Wesker told her not to throw a fist. She already wanted to relieve herself of a boot and put a size seven mark in the middle of his forehead. Plastering on a bright smile, she nodded to the man. "Well, it's what I do! It's a pleasure to finally see you Chief Irons."

"Oh please, call me Brian. Now, we've had to do a little background check on you Miss Valentine and everything has come back clean aside from a speeding ticket when you were sixteen." Seating himself, Irons folded his hands. "I would hate for this to be seen as you were just that good to not get caught. I would hope it is a sign that you were not following in your father's footsteps."

"I held a job working for a locksmith for a long time, Chief Irons. It should be in my employment record. My father's trade only helped me be able to keep a job and pay bills."

"Heh, in one way or another."

"I'm not a dishonest woman, Chief Irons." Heat was rising on Jill's cheeks, her palms balled into fists.

"We'll see abou-"

"Was there something of importance with this 'meeting', sir? Badgering my new recruit is a waste of my time. I have work to do and so does she." Wesker's defense of the woman slid in as neatly as a partner cutting in for a verbal dance with Irons.

"Fine. I'll be watching you, Valentine. Wesker, if she shows to be as worthless to society as her father has, I will have your job too." The pudgy man said with a fat finger pointed to both of them.

"Noted." The captain turned and headed out, Jill right on his heels.

Once outside of the office, the brunette woman gave a huff. "What an-"

"Don't even waste your breath on him. Come on, let's put some distance between you and his office before you march back in there to tell the man how you really feel about him." Nearly resting a hand upon the woman's back, he stopped himself short, fingers curled as the appendage was drawn away. Both realized it, both smiled faintly before heading back to their office. "This will be interesting…" He commented in a deserted hallway as they walked.

"What will?"

"Keeping myself in line."

"You seem very good at it already."

He grinned a bit at that, then his expression dropped flat of emotion as another officer came into view.

Once back to the office, Wesker swung the door open. "Alright, listen up. This is Jill Valentine, our newest recruit. I expect her to be given the same respect that each of you give to each-… Actually, forget I said that."

The team laughed a bit, all of them focused on their captain now.

"We'll give her a few weeks before we start the hazing, Captain." Forest chimed in, a few cheers following it.

"You'll be sharing a desk with Kevin; he's on Bravo team and handles the night flights normally. Rarely will see him." A finger jetting in the direction of the empty desk, Wesker left her side for his office in the back. Disappearing inside, the door shut behind him.

Making her way to the desk, Jill sighed a bit. The rest of the day was a bit of a drag, mostly studying a case that was being handled by the detectives on the other side of the RPD but was tracking well on its way to S.T.A.R.S.'s lap. Same behaviors: Breaking and entering, rape, theft after murder. Glancing over a few of the glossed photos, it was Forest who brought Jill back to reality. "I'm sorry?" She said, glancing up.

A sly grin on the man's face, Forest Speyer sat on the edge of Jill's desk. "Chris said your Pops was a burglar. You any good with a lock?" The question was accompanied by the presentation of a simple combination lock.

Sighing, she opened a palm and caught it as he tossed it to her. Giving it a spin, it took the woman less than twenty seconds to find the combination, unlock it and present it back to Forest. "If you want to keep a thief from stealing, put more numbers on the combination before locking it. Also, switch out your lock after you begin to notice that you can make the dial wiggle inside of the lock. "

Speechless, the man returned to the desk that he and Chris shared. About that time, the door in the back swung open. "You two, its three 'o clock. Get the bathroom cleaned up after you do an inventory on the fire arms room." Wesker said, tossing Forest the keys as soon as the long haired man rose and turned to face the captain.

Once the two men left the room, Brad Vickers stepped out as well to submit some report for the FAA for flight hours. Barry had taken the day off as did Joseph, which left them shorthanded aside from Forest working some overtime to carry the dead weight. Wesker didn't really care, so long as those who were taking time off were near a phone and able to return a phone call if something came up.

"What do you think of the case?" A familiar voice asked Jill as she had returned to reading. Peering up, she stared at her own reflection in a pair of sunglasses.

"I think it's going to happen again, Captain Wesker. Looking at these crime photos, I don't see any reason that it won't."

"Hm.. Hopefully the detectives will find them, otherwise we get to set a trap and handle the case in our own way." Lifting one of the pictures up, his glasses came off. "All victims are brunette, all in their twenties, and killed in the same fashion from a bullet to the head -executioner style."

"Whoever is doing this is paying someone for keys to these rooms, too." Jill said softly, offering one of the pictures to Wesker.

"Really? How do you know that?"

"Not a single tool mark on any of the locks and a partial thumb print was lifted off of the lock. I don't usually open doors with keys not using my thumb, Captain." She said with a quirked brow.

"Hm, well I will mention that theory to them when I see them again. By the way, we're working graveyard next month."

A deep sigh escaped from Jill's lips, one palm lifting to rest against her head. "Why?"

"Standard procedure. Bravo and Alpha switch off nights and days. It isn't so bad, Irons isn't around and most of the team spends the evening playing sports or working out in the gym when not working a case or having to answer calls with the blue uniforms in the middle of the night."

"Won't it look a bit strange if…?"

"Brad has to do his night flights to stay current; he's switching with us too. Don't worry; I'm three steps ahead of you." Without another word, he stepped back into his office and closed the door. Perfect timing, as the rest of the team was filing back in for the shift change.

'_Oh yes, don't worry Jill. He's got everything under control, and when this blows up and you both get fired… You can always have one for the road on Irons' desk and throw rotten eggs at the bastard's house while on unemployment.'_


End file.
